BURESU
by trimurti
Summary: He feels what she breathes. Nonsequential drabble serial. Sequel to WHW and TSM.
1. I Freeze

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**I. -Freeze-**

-0-

Araguay Woods was unusually quiet this morning, with nary a juravis around to belt out their squeaky mating call and ruin the atmosphere. Shafts of sunlight poured through the thin canopy, forcing the skeletal monsters and their ghostly brethren to hide in the same holes tree spirits and morbols uprooted from once they matured. It promised to be another humid summer day, so the plant-like creatures were digging their roots into the cooler areas of the forest, imitating the more inactive undergrowth around them. The flocks of chocobos native to the forest temporarily migrated to nearby Zirekile Falls, taking advantage of their large numbers to bully their way through the squid men that inhabited the waterfall. Following the chocobos' lead, the goblins decided to vacation in Sweegy Woods, which had a very lovely swamp and a thicker canopy to block out the sun.

With the monsters gone or in hiding, the humans moved in.

Ramza Beoulve and his cranky, irritable and miserable band stormed through the forest, intent on reaching Dorter before yet another group of monsters or bandits accosted them. They were trying to reach Igros, due to what Meliadoul Tingel had told them about the zodiac stone given to Dycedarg Beoulve, but their journey had been interrupted every single day. First, there was the matter of sneaking out of Limberry Castle before someone recognized Ramza and tried to collect on the hefty bounty on his head. Then there was Dolbodar Swamp and those archers that were intent on making pincushions out of the party. _Then_ they had to sneak around Bethla Garrison lest they be thrown into the dungeons by the Nanten, who wouldn't have taken kindly to seeing Cidolfas Orlandu, who had supposedly assassinated Duke Goltana before being executed by Delita. Explaining Thundergod Cid's speedy recovery from death might have been possible, but not a good idea. And then there was Zirekile Falls. No one, not even eternally optimistic Ramza, would've ever claimed that crossing the steep waterfall while being attacked by the local wildlife was a fun little diversion. He did try to claim it was good training though, and no one was ever going to tell him who had kicked him into the water. Thank God this leg of their journey was ending, they all--except for Mustadio, the atheist--thought, before hurriedly knocking on wood just in case they had cursed themselves.

During the course of the last several days, Beowulf Kadmus had gotten himself pushed back to back guard. He wasn't sure how this happened, but the fact that it had happened was troubling to the former Temple Knight. No one wanted to be the back guard, because that meant having to watch out for ambushes. It also meant that he had to watch his own back, which he was more inclined to do since his back happened to be very valuable to him. However, he wasn't too worried about his newfound job; as a hunter he had learned to gauge the 'rhythm' of the landscape. Though, there was another in their group who was far more attuned to such a thing than he.

A smile crept up on his face as he gazed at his lover. Reis Dular was in the center of the party, her back to him, the length of her dark blond hair swaying as she walked. From the gap between Rafa and Malak Galthana he could see that even she looked tired as her hands were limp instead of holding up her voluminous skirts; a wilted flower, he supposed. That was too bad. He would have to do something to brighten her spirits once they arrived in Dorter. But what should he do? Flowers were cliché. He was already paying for their meals in town, and watching the love of his life devour the thickest and rarest cuts of meat in the space of one meal was slightly...distressing to him. She hated sweets. Well, maybe flowers weren't so bad, on second thought...

To say that he was distracted would be an understatement.

It barely registered in his mind when she jerked her head towards the canopy, but then the blur was hurtling down from the trees and he was tugging out his Rune Blade from its scabbard. As Reis stumbled back from the downward slash from what appeared to be a renegade kunoichi, as everyone else was just now turning around, he was focusing the arcane energies of the Magic Sword, twining the threads of energy into a particularly devious spell. He was ready, even though he hated to use this curse. It was cruel and he hated to be cruel, especially after those days...

He froze.

The female ninja's other sword flew up in a beautiful arc, blood spraying in its wake. Without a sound, Reis fell. Seeing this, something hot and heavy lit in the pit of his stomach.

It was his fault.

His spell, amplified by the surge of emotion, did not so much as seep through the kunoichi as it tore through her, blasting away her bravery and cruelly transforming her into the shape that now defined her new cowardice: a chicken. The ghostly image of an asymmetrical sword thrust up through her body at the Divine Knight's bidding, striking one of her fallen swords and causing shrapnel to fly into her unprotected body. Her death cry was human, forced through the vocal cords of a fowl.

The Heretic's Scream. How many times had he elicited that same scream from those the Church called heretics?

By this time the party was besieged by an entire ninja clan, darkly clothed and ready to avenge their fallen comrade. The battle ended as quickly and as painfully as possible, with misdirected lightning slamming repeatedly through one ninja before a gunshot ended his torment while Holy Explosions from two sides ripped through three others. By the time Ramza administered the coup de grace on the last ninja, Reis was on her knees, blood dribbling over the backs of her hands as she tried to cover her chest wound. Beowulf could only stare as others rushed forward. One slightly oily rag later and the wound was cleaned, revealing an almost artistic cut that was already healing with the aid of a potion.

_Why did I stop?_ he asked himself. _Her life was at stake! It shouldn't matter what I do to save her. Even if I hate it, I've done worse. God knows I have._

_I've got to be cruel to win, I know, but...  
_

She glanced his way, caught his eye. As if she was reading his mind, she smiled, trying to reassure him. _Look at me_, her eyes implored him, _I'm fine. Everything's fine. _She lifted her hands to him, and even as she gestured to him to come to her all he could see were the traces of blood on her hands. All because he froze.

_No, Reis, it's not fine_, he thought, and that was why he turned away.

-End to Freeze-

I've always wanted to write a sequel to WHW and TSM. However, that would make it pretty much a novelization, which would be pointless because we've all played the game. Instead, this is more of a series of snapshots so I can work on creating concise, detailed scenes. Besides, these days it's about all I can do with school. Speaking of which, UFC's restart is now on 5/31; yell at my professors, not me. The new contest deadline is in my bio.

The title is the romanized form of the katakana that spells the word 'breath'. This is how it's read for Reis' breath attacks. Bracelet in kana is 'buresuretto'.

Note to self: Stop pointing out Beowulf's low brave, even if I am infinitely amused by its implications. "Bravely bold Sir Robin..." Also, Araguay's ninja battle is its rare battle, though I prefer Bariaus Valley's tiamat rare battle.


	2. II Burn

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**II. -Burn-**

-0-

The glow of the dawn had softly illuminated much of the room when Beowulf woke up in Zeltennia castle town's most classy inn. Five thousand gil a night, but as he gazed at the woman in his arms the cost was the farthest thing on his mind. Reis was still peacefully sleeping, or at least she was until he began to lay feather-soft kisses along her forehead and cheeks. Scrunching up her face like a disgruntled cuar, she tried to turn away from his affectionate bombardment, but he held her close and murmured close to her ear, "You have to wake up, love. Wake up. Wake u--" He didn't get any further before she, with her eyes still closed, took her pillow and held it against his face.

"Why am I waking up?" she said in the death-warmed-over tone of those who absolutely need nine hours of sleep in order to properly function.

He grinned as he removed the pillow. "We're going home, that's why." He expected her to be happy about this, perhaps ecstatic enough to engage in a little early morning celebration, but instead she just opened her eyes.

"Alright," she mumbled before she got out of bed and began dressing. He did the same, not all that bothered by her cool reaction. She always did like to sleep, he remembered. A few times he looked over at her side, ready with a cute comment about her various stages of undress, but she seemed distracted and he didn't want to annoy her. It was when Beowulf was adjusting his scarf and thinking about the journey from Zeltennia to Lesalia when Reis, who was sitting on the bed with her outer skirt neatly folded on her lap, turned to him and said, "Beowulf, I...I think it would be a good idea to keep traveling with that group."

He paused, blinked, then continued with the very complicated process of arranging the scarf. "Why would you think that?" he asked, just to humor her.

"Because...I think they're doing the right thing. Don't you?"

The scarf was finished before he turned to face her. "What they're doing is admirable," he said slowly, studying the lovely face before him. Her expression was bright and earnest, and he didn't like it one bit. Not with whatever idea she had churning behind those suspiciously challenging eyes.

"So..." A look of shy encouragement blossomed on her face, still at odds with her eyes. "We can join them?"

_She can't possibly be serious._ He turned around and began to focus on his boots. "It's a tough life, love. Anyway, they're heading south and we're going west." There was silence while he put on his boots and laced his greaves around them. Then, because he was starting to get unnerved by the slightly hostile tinge in the atmosphere, he turned around and smiled charmingly. "I can't wait to introduce you to Sis. She doesn't believe that you're every bit as incredible as I've said you are." He reached out to cup her face but she drew away, her expression one of annoyed dismay.

"I'm being serious. If you think they're admirable, then we should definitely help them." Her hands began to pluck at the skirt in her lap, graceful fingers twisting in the cloth. "After all, I don't think you would've asked them for help if you didn't think they were worthy."

_More like they were the only people willing to go into the colliery_, he thought, starting to get tired of the conversation. If they didn't leave the inn soon, it would be that much harder to travel through Finath River, where the wild chocobo flocks were rampant in the afternoon. "Reis, that may be so, but it was only to find and restore you. Now that that's done, there's no reason to keep with them."

A frown crossed her face. "So...you used them?"

Irritation sparked in his mind, but he kept his expression pleasant. "They knew that my only reason in joining them was because of you."

"But you stayed with them long enough to get that stone."

"...Yes?"

"So, isn't that using them?"

"What does it matter if I did or not?" he asked, frustrated now. "I assisted them along the way, the both of us did. Now that everything's done, let's go home."

She shook her head, her frown deepening. "Can you really just leave it at that? With your skills, you'd be a valuable asset. Ivalice's future is at stake here."

By God, his love for her reached the heavens, but right now she was really getting on his nerves. He ran a hand through his mussed hair and fought to keep his real thoughts from slipping. "If I do that, then we'll probably be separated for some time. Is that what you want?"

Confusion danced within her eyes. "Separated? But..." Then her frown came back in full force. "I'm going with you." All Beowulf could do was shake his head. "That's _not_ your decision to make," she said, steel in her voice.

Anger began to bubble up within him. "I think I've earned the right by now."

"You didn't..." Turning her head away, all he could see was a long curtain of her blond hair. "I didn't ask you to save me."

"I see. Then, would you have preferred to stay as a dragon?" After a drawn-out moment of silence, he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to face him. "Well?"

Reis' hands went still as she looked over at him. "If it's the only way to get you to do the right thing, then yes."

Her cavalier answer irritated him, and his dark eyes narrowed in response. "The right thing to do would be to go home and live a quiet life with you. I've done what I can, they've helped me restore you, and now it's no longer my business."

She pulled away from him and stood up, all sadness and disbelief. "You...don't you think that's heartless?"

"Heartless?" A part of him, a very small part, tried to tell him that she had always been idealistic. Wasn't that one of the many things about her he loved? The rest of him insisted that she was being insensitive and geared his responses accordingly. "If I had been heartless, I wouldn't have bothered trying to find you. I've earned the right to live a normal life, and I'm going to take it."

"Fine. Take it. You're right, you've earned it." Her expression was a complex blend of sadness, disappointment, pity...but was he also seeing anger along her pursed lips? "I'll go alone."

His pulse quickened at her announcement and forced him to stand; he wasn't going to keep looking up at her. Not after that. "No, you're not going anywhere." She opened her mouth to speak, but he forged on ahead. "Do you even know what you're saying? Are you really that willing to throw your life away?"

"Beowulf--"

"Anyway, what are you going to do for them? Cooking? Leading them to monsters for food? You can't wield a weapon and you're no longer a dragon."

With anger now blazing in her eyes, she said, "I can fight."

"Being a human shield for other people isn't fighting." As soon as he said that, he was sorry he had. Shock widened her eyes, then fury darkened her cheeks. Expressed anger was a rarity for her, and even though he wasn't too happy himself he tried to soothe her. "Reis, I--"

"How dare you," she whispered. "You all but imply that I don't appreciate what you've done for me, but you can just conveniently forget why you had to 'bother'?" Taking a deep breath, her normal blank expression swept over her face like waves over Gariland's shoreline. "I can fight, believe me."

"I find it hard to," he responded, properly chastised but still clinging onto that point that proved he was in the right. He _was_ right, he was sure of it. "If you can prove it, fine. We'll both go." There was nothing she could do, he knew it. There wasn't anything different about this incarnation of Reis, other than her ordering steak when all she ate before were salads and soups. But now her smile was confusing him. She pointed at a tall candle resting on the armoire across the bed, just a couple paces from where she stood.

Then, she breathed.

-End to Burn-

The last drabble didn't have a line of dialogue. This one makes up for that. I've always believed that it was Reis' idea for them to join Ramza's party, because there's no way in hell Beowulf would've suggested that after finally having her back and restored.

Ivalice must have the worst inflation rates ever. Seriously, when a bottle of holy water is 2 thousand gil a bottle and perfume is 30,000 gil AND you have to kill the monster, I would hate to see the inn rates in a capital city like Zeltennia Castle.

Reviewers!

Yo, TruebornChaos. Yeah, I think that's how it goes. Wow, I mention one little line and suddenly everybody's tossing back references. That's awesome. Anyway, glad you liked the story.

Heh, exactly TobyKikami. I've got to throw a bard in a story sometime. Everyone should have a planned works section, because it keeps one honest about what they're going to do. Funny thing is, I think I used the wrong word for that title. I meant 'libation'. I don't know, what do you think goes better when the sacrifice is blood?

Thanks, gleenthefrog. I hope this also answers your question in the epilogue of _Penitentes_ about if I was ever going to write about Reis again. I just can't stay away.

Y'know Evil Mina, I think your review's longer than the story! I kid; I think it's awesome. Besides, I'd think that all writers--especially in a small section like this one--would do bad things just get people who will review, not to talk of reviewing every chapter. I'm really honored.  
Personally, I really like drabbles. They're bite-sized stories.  
The line you pointed out _is_ awkward, but even now I'm not sure how to change it, or if I should at all. I can think of lots of examples where explaining something can be possible but not good, or at least not a good idea. Hey, that's what's wrong with that line! Thanks! As far as noticing game stuff goes, I've always loved the research aspect of fanfiction. Hey, I'm a fan, what can I say?  
I found it funny that you pointed out all the things I got in your last review of _Penitentes_, but not the things I was confused about, like when you asked if the last line had anything to do with a series I was planning on, or what the 'funny and clever lines' you found on a second reading were. I'm still looking for them. :)


	3. III Electric

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**III. -Electric-**

-0-

Beowulf thought he knew exactly what Reis was doing. He even believed he knew why. It was all she really could do. It would be so easy to sympathize with her; after all, traveling with Ramza's party through the wilds of Ivalice didn't allow for anything more than longing gazes and fleeting brushes of contact, the things bards everywhere sung about as being the epitome of romance. And he had to admit that he was a romantic, though more of the sort that involved actual conversation and prolonged physical contact. The point of the matter was that he could appreciate his lover's shy advances and even find them endearing, just like anyone else bitten--in his case, chomped on, chewed up and spat out--by the love bug.

But really, she didn't have to brush up against him three times a day. _At least_.

Now, this was not to say that he didn't want to be touched by her. On the contrary, he would be a very happy man if all she did was touch him. _Constantly_ happy. And he was willing to take what he could get, considering that the only truly private time they got was once they reached a town. However, as the old chemist saying went, too much of a good thing was a poison, something he was getting a firsthand account of.

It always happened the same way. The party would stop for whatever reason, from setting up camp to settling a dispute--both external threats as well as arguments--and while he would stand around like the innocent victim he was, she would come up behind him like a thief and steal away any focus he had on other matters. She always approached him from behind, deathly silent right until she would brush up against his arm. Sometimes she would even glance back at him, a touch of a smile lingering on her coral lips before she would casually turn away. Always though, he would catch her scent, that deep, intoxicating perfume that lured him away to other times, where there were no battles, only her, her lips, her neck, her voice as she whispered his name, her fingers running through his hair, rounded nails digging into his back as she urged him on...

_Every damn time_.

He was starting to feel like a teenager again. Thank God he owned a cape, even though they were traveling in the hottest days of summer.

Normally it wouldn't be so frustrating for him--he was in possession of a large amount of self-control--but his feelings were exacerbated by the fact that they had only been together again for a mere week after years of loneliness, years of missing her, years of trying to find her on wisps of gossip...and years of never quite finding her. All those years, and now that they were journeying to save their homeland, it seemed that their relationship was being pushed aside in the meanwhile. He cared about Ivalice and wanted to destroy the Lucavi just as much as anyone else, but she was more important. _They_ were more important.

Sometimes he wanted to blame her, but he knew that it would be too easy, too wrong. Instead, he decided to think positively. After all, if she could have her fun tormenting him, he could do the same.

It was a beautiful, clear day at Bariaus Valley as well as miserably humid, something Beowulf had always hated about his stay in Lionel. The group was heading towards Goug after Mustadio had realized that the Cancer stone was what his father's newest invention needed to do whatever it did. They were now in the process of refilling canteens--no one wanted to take a chance with Zigolis Swamp's 'water'. When Beowulf had finished refilling his, he noticed Reis was standing by herself, looking back towards Lionel Castle. _She must be thinking about her time there_, he thought to himself when, from his vantage point to the side, he saw her expression darken. _She could use a good distraction._

After glancing back to make sure everyone was occupied, he quietly approached her, an exercise in futility but necessary for the mood he wanted to inspire. She heard him, something he could tell by the way she suddenly straightened up, but she didn't turn around to acknowledge him. He smiled wickedly as he walked up next to her, casually placing one hand on the small of her back while leaning his head so that the curve of his bottom lip brushed the top of her ear. "Hello, love," he whispered, his smile widening as she shivered.

"B-Beowulf, what...what are you doing?" she whispered back, not moving away from him. "Everyone's just behind us..."

He moved his hand from her back to her hand, easily encircling her delicate wrist as he softly rubbed his thumb just underneath the heel of her palm. With his gloves off, he could feel her pulse throbbing at an accelerated pace, moreso as he began to speak. "Hm...everyone's occupied at the moment." He waited a moment to gauge her response to that--her pulse quickened--before continuing with, "Unless you don't want me around?"

She shook her head minutely. "No. I just...I mean, since there are people around, you might not want to be so, ah, intimate..."

"Intimate? Interesting. I wasn't planning on doing anything." Lowering his head just a bit more, his lips caressed the valley between the cartilage just before her inner ear. Her pulse was erratic, something that amazed him. Did he really have the same effect on her as she did to him? The mental pleasure he derived from that thought was almost as good as any physical pleasure he had ever received, and he enjoyed a long moment of just being close to her before he spoke again.

"Yet."

Her pulse was sparking like electricity just before he let go and walked away, a small smirk on his face.

-End to Electric-

Very, very rough drabble this time around, since I'm dealing with both my finals as well as a job. With my job as it is (pros: money, the amusement I get by having a coworker named Alma; cons: boss, standing for 7 hours a day), I barely have the willpower to churn out a thousand words a week, not to talk of UFC, so for now I'm discontinuing it until I get a well-paying job with less hours a day (which is already in the works). I'm very sorry, but I really need to get a new computer before this one crashes on me again.

Reviewers!

Thanks, TobyKikami. I know libation's more for a liquid sacrifice, but oblation just sounds so...odd. Unlike you, I've never heard of it before a few weeks ago.  
Thanks for your review!

Yo, TruebornChaos. I'd forgotten just how popular Monty Python was. And way to ruin the Lionel Castle scene. :P  
Bah, that 'iBook thingie', as you so put it, is a beautiful laptop from Apple. With my job going the way it is, I should have enough money for it by mid-July. And thanks for your kind words, both on the job as well as the chapter. By the way, I forgot to say this in last week's reply, but happy birthday!

Nice to see you, Luna! Yeah, lovey-dovey couples with no problems whatsoever is not only impossible, it's extremely boring to read about.   
Good luck with finals. This time around all of mine were reports and take-home tests.

Solitary Confinement (awesome name, by the way), you're entirely too kind. I thought that what the game showed of the two was very well done and tasteful. But yeah, I'm really happy you see the evolution of Beowulf and Reis between WHW to now. Thanks for your review! 


	4. IV Blessed

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**IV. -Blessed-**

-0-

"Come on, don't be afraid. Try it."

With a hesitance that was inappropriate coming from a beast such as the holy dragon, Reis accepted the holy stone and the satchel from Beowulf's hands, the items easily fitting between her massive jaws. She glanced at him, her large rose-pink eyes glimmering with what he imagined was hope before she turned and lumbered away into the crumbling Nelveska Temple. He watched her go, his heartbeat increasing with each step until she disappeared into the temple's depths. Finally, after years of searching, he had managed to find both her as well as the Cancer stone that could, presumably, restore her to her true form.

Hopefully.

The weather was mild on the island north of Ivalice, yet he could distinctly feel beads of sweat trickle down the palm of his hands inside his gloves. _This is it_, he thought, ignoring his body's nervous responses as an odd churning began in the pit of his stomach, _this is where everything converges. Reis will be cured, she has to be._

She had to be. He couldn't allow himself to think any differently, to even imagine settling for a life with the enchanted version of his love. Certainly the dragon was Reis, he had known it as soon as he had laid eyes on her in the depths of Goland's colliery, but it wasn't _her_. He hadn't fallen in love with a monster all those years ago, but rather a beautiful, brilliant human. What she was in now was just a prison, one that might have been his now if it weren't for her intervention.

He would've accepted it. She should've never had to suffer for his sake. But it was going to be alright now.

It had to be.

The seconds ticked by, agonizingly slow, a dying man's crawl. His heartbeat was unsteady as he watched the maw of the dilapidated stone building for anything that could assure him that everything was going to be fine. To calm himself, if only slightly, he tried to conjure her image in his mind. It was something he had done constantly throughout his hunting career, a meditation focus to enforce the belief that all the bruises and scratches and the many near-death experiences were worth it because it would all lead to her someday. However, the years had washed out her image from vibrant oils to faded watercolors in his mind.

Her eyes were caramel, her smile a pretty, pale pink. These stood out in his mind because her emotions were easiest to read in her eyes--that and he was fond of sweets--and her lips had always been indescribably kissable. Next was her golden hair, darker than his own, a shade that went well with her light skin tone. She liked to keep it shorter than he preferred, only because he liked how it had twisted behind her slender figure. Her limbs were long and proportional to her taller-than-average height, her skin soft and practically begging to be caressed for long periods of time. And if he tried he could just about recall her voice, that sweet siren's song that had lured him so many years ago. Soon...soon he would hear her, see her as she truly was once again.

Beowulf smiled.

Light exploded from the temple, forcing him to raise his arm to shield his eyes. The magical glow soon petered out, leaving him to stare in astonishment at the entrance to the sanctuary._ Does that...is it done? That's it, isn't it? Is she alright? She's cured...right?_ So many thoughts like these raced through his mind as he unconsciously clenched his hands into tight fists. _God, she has to be..._

She had to be restored. It was the only acceptable outcome. Only a cruel deity would deny salvation for the woman whose only sin was to give up her God-given humanity to save him. He had heard the story about Rafa Galthana's miraculous use of the zodiac stone to resurrect her brother; surely Reis could have her humanity returned to her...

_There's no other outcome_, he reminded himself. _Not after six years. She'll come out in just a few moments wearing those clothes I bought for her years ago but never could summon up enough courage to give her, and she'll smile. That's all I want._

_Just another chance._

The dragon was only his love ensorcelled. It was only a cell that trapped the Reis he had known, the Reis that he wanted to share his life with. It held the girl who had shyly peeked behind a wall while he went about the business of saving her luggage, it bound within it the woman who had accepted him and his faults and loved him even more for them. If she remained a dragon, he would care for her, but to see her constantly suffering in such a form would be hell. He would have to see the intelligence shining in her eyes and know that there might never be a cure for her, that there was nothing else he could do.

For the rest of his life, he would have to live up to the fact that he had failed her.

No. That wasn't what was going to happen. She was going to come out any moment with a smile on her face and everything was going to be alright. There was no more Buremonda, no more killing for the sake of the Church, only him and her and the rest of their lives together. That was what was going to happen!

It had to.

He heard a scraping noise from inside the temple, but his eyesight could not pierce the darkness to determine her shape. All he could do was wait for the emergence of the lady...or the dragon.

-End to Blessed-

I've always liked the short story 'The Lady or the Tiger', and thought that the concept was especially fitting for this cutscene. Sure we all know what happens (hence the story name), but it's still interesting to see it from Beowulf's viewpoint. Two things: No, this series is not done, not by a longshot. Also, I pushed the contest deadline back by two weeks. I have one entry in via email, so let's see some more!

Reviewers!

Hm...well, TobyKikami, while I'm sure you've figured this out by now, I'll just say that Beowulf was wrapping his cape around himself. See, look:  
(At Zirekile Falls. Again.)  
Mustadio: Geez, it's freakin' hot here! Ramza, why can't we go swimming? (notices Beo) The hell? Beo, what's wrong with you?  
Beowulf: (straight-faced) I'm cold.  
Mustadio: ...You're really weird, y'know that?

Hello once again, raitei! I'm glad you like my earlier works as well as this one. Get excited as much as you want, it's a great compliment. :)

Yo, TruebornChaos. Heh, well, in-game Beo is very smitten (especially with a line like, "She means more to me than life itself."). Revenge may be great, but don't you think she's going to get back at him for that? It's a vicious cycle...  
My job right now is at a clothing store. The job I'd love to get is as a teacher's aide, but the process of getting hired is longer. I just like the idea of sitting down for more than 30 minutes out of 7-8 hours a day.

Hey, Evil Mina. Ack, romance novelist? I've read exactly one romance novel...bloody thing scared me witless. I guess that proves your point, though.  
Hey, you gotta admit, that story's scenario was very plausible. Beowulf is just a victim! Glad you enjoyed it so much.  
Nah, _3_ is about the 3 months between Ch. 2 and 3. If only I could write it soon.

Uh, Solitary Confinement...you do mean 'tendency to_wards_ drama and angst', right? The way you wrote it made me sound like some emo kid. Gah. Anyway, glad you liked it.


	5. V Chill

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**V. -Chill-**

-0-

The vast fields of Mandalia Plains were liberally dotted with giant, gleaming white stones that jutted out of the ground like tusks, giving the land its nickname as the 'Beast Plains'. It was not a fertile land, yet monsters roamed these fields due to its extensive use as a direct route from Igros, the capital of Gallionne, to Gariland, where one of the most prominent military academies in Ivalice stood. In other words, it was a monster's hunting ground for the delicious goods humans tended to ferry around, as well as the humans themselves.

Beowulf knew this place well; not only was it just a week's journey from his home in Lesalia, but there were large packs of dragons that roamed these fields. He had watched as red dragons warred against their blue relatives, ice blanketing the fields even as blood splattered against the pure stones. Their brutality amazed him, and it was no small relief to him that Reis had never found herself here during the years she had spent as a nomadic dragon. Or perhaps she had; she was always vague whenever he asked her about her journeys in that other form.

He didn't want her to be here now, not as the curious creature known as the dragoner. Even if she retained the use of her draconic breaths, she was still perfectly human in appearance. However, Ramza had asked them to hunt today, the last day there would be a need to before their journey would take them to Murond. Beowulf had wanted to protest, but the young Beoulve looked weary from his revelations about his family in Igros and didn't need any additional stress at the moment. Though, considerate as he might be, the hunter couldn't hide the dark look on his face as he left the campsite with his lover in tow.

There were no monsters in sight when he glanced at Reis, who was walking beside him stealthily even as her skirts rustled through the short, dry grasses of the plains. Her expression was blank, though her eyes were rapidly scanning the area. The sun was setting, giving her creamy complexion a lively glow that warmed her features. He smiled briefly at that, their job a distant memory in his mind. She had always had that effect on him.

"Beowulf." Her voice was lower than usual, snapping him out of his pleasant reverie. "There's a monster just northwest of us."

He barely nodded to acknowledge her statement, turning to face the direction she had indicated. "Good job, love. Just stay behind me." Unsheathing the Defender he had retrieved after Dycedarg had dropped it to transform into Adrammelech, the knight sword's weight was a minor comfort to the former Temple Knight.

"Um...it's just a chocobo," he heard her say. He didn't turn around.

"Chocobos can be dangerous creatures."

"It's just a yellow chocobo."

He had to turn around at that comment. "How do you hear _color_?" he asked, raising one eyebrow in bemusement.

Reis shrugged. "I've hunted chocobos for years. It's just something I know."

For a second, he wanted to take that comment in another way, as a reference to her life as a hunter on Bariaus Hill. But then he looked in her eyes, saw the peculiar flatness he had seen in the holy dragon's eyes, and sighed instead. "All the same, I'd appreciate it if you stayed behind me."

Slight irritation crossed her face, but instead of replying she pointed north. "It's moved that way. It's grazing, but it's almost done."

Wisely, he decided to focus on the matter at hand. Without a word, he turned the way she had pointed and began to walk. Behind him, he heard her sigh and resolved that later they would talk about this, as well as future hunting trips. It wasn't that he didn't think her capable in battle--unfortunately, he had to admit the opposite--or that she would just get in his way. However, his need to protect her was greater than his unwillingness to hurt her feelings.

The image of her, blood flowing from her nose and streaking through her golden hair, still haunted him years after the fact.

Before Beowulf's current mood nose-dived from the memory, he saw the chocobo. Not surprisingly, it was bright yellow and appeared to be a juvenile in growth. After considering it, he figured it was enough to feed all of them. The only problem was approaching it, as all chocobos except for their red counterparts were very skittish when alone, and this part of the plains had no 'tusks' in satisfactory range. But before he could even formulate a plan, he heard the dry grass crackle under the weight of Reis' skirts as she moved forward. "Reis?" he whispered as she moved past him, but she didn't acknowledge him.

As she walked towards the chocobo, the way she moved gave rise to warring feelings inside him. On one hand, the way her hips swayed back and forth hypnotically in time with her measured steps caused his breathing to hitch; on the other hand, there was a rigid quality to her arms that whispered of the same violence the edge of a sword would sing as it whistled through the air. Held in place by desire and something he would never admit was fear, he watched her.

The chocobo raised its head when she was mere inches away. "Hello," he heard her say, and the avian monster chirped in reply. It sounded happy, which added to the hunter's muddled state. Reis giggled, causing Beowulf to smile automatically. "Is that so? Well, yes, I am a strange sort of human." She moved so that she stood just before its beak, then she reached out and began to touch its head, weaving her fingers through its feathered crown. "And you're a strange sort of chocobo, but that's not a bad thing at all."

_Well, if she's going to make friends with our food, I suppose that means we shouldn't get this one_, Beowulf thought, amused by the sight before him. Reis had always gotten along more easily with monsters than with humans. His odd paralysis gone, he shook his head and turned away, a smile gracing his handsome features. _It's getting dark, but we should find another monster easily around h--_

A loud crack rent the air, the sound resembling the explosion of noise from one of Mustadio's guns. In fact, that was what Beowulf had thought the sound was as he instinctively prepared himself for a fight. He looked at Reis, ready to protect her at a moment's notice, and froze. The dragoner had settled onto the ground, as had the chocobo. She was still stroking its head, a small smile touching up the corners of her lips.

The chocobo's neck was unnaturally twisted, its eyes closed as its tongue lolled out of its open beak.

Beowulf saw this, saw the light smile on his lover's face, and his blood ran cold.

-End to Chill-

Think of this as an extended version of _Predator_. There's an obscure reference to WHW that I couldn't help; for the most part, I'll be trying to stay away from that, though this is a sequel. For all the skeptics: One, Reis is tied for strongest female in-game and two, having spent years as a dragon, she would know best where the weakest parts of her prey are. 

_--_Mandalia's rare battle pits enemy red/blue dragons against green guest dragons, but green dragons aren't so interesting to write about.

Reviewers!

Hey, Evil Mina. I like 'The Lady or the Tiger' just because I have a fierce analytical side that loves to figure out things like that. Though, I don't think I liked the writing style.  
Thanks for your comments about the story. You know, reading your review, I think I should stop picking on Beowulf's brave. By all accounts, he and Rafa do some of the bravest things in the game, while Agrias and her high brave ran right out of Lionel Castle and left Ovelia behind (and now that I said that, someone's going to yell at me). But anyway, Beowulf's human.  
Here, I'll write something bad: _Through magic (and someone spilling soda on the console), two girls are transported to Ivalice! Ramza/OC and Delita/OC._  
...I kid, I kid. People should write whatever they want.

Good job, TruebornChaos. Next time, I'll hope that you write the first review, just so you don't take the easy way out. :P Reis isn't necessarily timid, she just takes a long time to actually decide to do anything. Revenge is a dish best served piping hot by the use of dragonfire, after all.  
Good luck about your interview. What job were you going for, if I may ask?

Hello, TobyKikami. Glad the skit was of some use. I hope you're not implying that someone's actually written conclusive fanfiction to 'The Lady or the Tiger'. Somehow, that doesn't seem right.

Yo, raitei. I'm happy you liked the story. Heh, I think most people like Beowulf. There's a lot of reasons to, after all.

Sorry, Solitary Confinement, I just have a habit of pointing out things that strike me as odd. Anyway, the very fact that Beowulf spent such a long time looking for Reis shows his strength and integrity, as well as his love for her. That's something that takes more skill to get across than what I currently possess, and I can only be happy if only a bit of it does. So, thanks.


	6. VI Warmth

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**VI. -Warmth-**

-0-

"She is a heretic."

The girl was only eighteen, gifted with what her parents called a 'miraculous power'. God would tell her the future, and what He told her always came true. A slight girl, frail and delicate in body, she was said to exude a gentle charisma. Some even went so far as to call her the reincarnation of Ajora, the illustrious Child of God, until the day she announced that the Glabados Church would soon usher in the means to destroy Ivalice.

"You know what to do."

The trip to Zaland took a little over a day from Lionel Castle, and after reviewing his orders it was easy to find her. Church intelligence was always accurate. For her blasphemous words she had been thrown out of her house, cast away by her parents and made a pariah by the people who had once called her 'God's Treasure'. She was wasting away in the alley when he found her, her already petite body deteriorating like so much compost. Even in such a condition, she knew who he was and what he had been ordered to do. Everyone knew what a Temple Knight was, the angel of death sent to cull sinners from the ranks of the true believers.

Her eyes were dark and accusing as he regretfully cast the spell that would silence her forever.

"You have your orders, Sir Kadmus. I trust they will be completed to the best of your ability."

One of his very first missions was against a band of renegade knights who had formerly been a part of the network of knights known as the Lionel Holy Knights. They had rebelled against the Church, citing numerous injustices as well as the ongoing rumor that the institution was paying the Ordalians to leave Bervenia alone. No one was swayed by the words of these fallen knights, but Examiner Draclau still sent him to take care of all six knights. It was the principle of the matter, after all.

"I have the utmost faith in you. You've constantly met all monthly quotas, your ingenuity in eliminating the heretics is nothing short of astounding, and you are still able to lead the Lionel Holy Knights with success. Even Murond is impressed."

It took him two weeks, and only because they had scattered throughout Lionel in a desperate search for an escape path out of the Church-owned region. He slew one the conventional way and let the Church's ninja squad take care of the body. Two others he had turned into chickens; too bad they had been on Bariaus Hill. Another he had petrified, and was later sickened to find that knight taking up residence in a noble's home, forever an image of a man in battle. The last two were transformed into zombies, and the white mage he had asked to accompany him for just that battle took care of the rest. She later told him that she had found it invigorating that she could use her God-given gifts to protect the Church and thanked him for the opportunity.

"Go with God, Sir Knight, and strike in His name."

An old man in Warjilis who said blasphemous things. A mechanic from Goug who tried to get past the Church restrictions on creating heretical objects. A Zaland-based soothsayer who practiced the trade of her old country despite having sworn allegiance to Glabados. A couple in Lionel castle town whose only sin was to teach their child that there were other faiths in the world. There were so many heretics, so many people threatening the status quo by living their lives contrary to the edicts of the Glabadosian faith.

Her eyes bore into his even as the stone casing crept over her lips, silently condemning him for the sins he had committed and would commit to save himself.

-0-

Beowulf opened his eyes. The gray of predawn filtered into the inn room, giving everything a washed out appearance. He felt the same. If it wasn't a dream about his years as a Temple Knight it was a dream about his time in the war. They felt the same to him by now, regrets piled onto regrets.

Shifting a bit, he turned from his back onto his side. Reis was there, hands tucked underneath her head as she slept peacefully, if not deeply. There was a vast difference between the two, the same difference between her waking up and his having to carry her if they were camping out in the open. As it was, she looked just as faded as everything else inside the small room. He reached out to move some stray locks of hair from her face and was surprised when she opened her eyes, blinking blearily in a way that he thought was cute. "Good morning," he whispered, smiling because she would expect it. It surprised him when he felt better for it.

"Good morning," she mumbled, her voice scratchy with disuse. "It's too early..."

"Go back to sleep." His fingers brushed away her hair from her face before she moved up to him, her eyes closing as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. Some sort of muddled affirmative passed her lips as he kissed her on the forehead, her body relaxing soon afterward. Amusement flittered through his mind at how easy it was for her to sink into sleep; she obviously had nothing to fear from her dreams.

He laid awake and watched as the dawn eventually broke, concentrating on nothing more than the warmth of her body. It was a soothing warmth, one that told him by its very presence that he wasn't alone. Having such a gift, a woman who knew what he had done, why he had done it, and still stayed by his side didn't seem right. Where was the justice for his victims?

_In the end I became the same as them_, he thought as he closed his eyes. _No, that's not true. I was always the real heretic, after all. If it hadn't been for Reis' curse, if we had still stayed in Lionel, I might have been compelled to keep at it. But now I have the freedom to repent._

If that was the price of heresy, so be it.

-End to Warmth-

Originally this was to be a far different story, but I got bored writing it. That told me something. Sorry, I'm stressed. Some of the Temple Knight incidents were previously mentioned in WHW.

Confidential to Jaded Soul: Okay, it took me a year, but I finally bought _.hack/Infection_. You were right, it is a fun game!

Reviewers!

Hey, TruebornChaos. Heh, can't always take the easy way out. Statwise, Beowulf is physically stronger than Reis (by 2), but I would imagine that she's stronger in a 'brute force' kind of way. Hey, at least the title 'Chill' was appropriate, huh?

Hello, TobyKikami. I did a search for 'The Lady and the Tiger' fics in the Misc. Books section and came up with 6 entries, 5 of which were direct sequels. I don't know what to say. Finally I was able to see your in progress list, which made me even more excited for your upcoming FFT fic. You'll be answering a question I've had for a long time. We should link our stories together or something.

Yo, Evil Mina. So, what you're saying is that your favorite stories were where Beo was...er, distracted and the one where Reis was a merciless killer. I think I see what kind of person you are. :P   
Obsessed over monsters? Nah, I just think they're neglected. Well, except for chocobos, it seems. I have to judge characters based on their Brave and Faith values; it's practically the only thing they give us in the way of personality! This talk about Beowulf reminds me of a JPN FFT site where the owner had personal notes on all the playable characters. For the one on Beo, the first note was basically, "I LOVE HIM!" caps and all. I like the guy, but I like Reis, Melly and Musty a lot more. People overrate Izlude?  
I died laughing at your spelling of 'Wiegraf', just so you know. That's great.

Nice to see you again, Luna. How did graduation go?   
I don't know, but I'd think that Beowulf would first have to rethink his view of Reis before he thinks about how to treat her in light of that incident.  
Just to let you know, to get that battle you have to go to Mandalia from the Thieves Fort.

Hi, raitei. No, it wasn't supposed to be a shock, per se, but it is supposed to bring a chill down your spine or something. Well, I can only hope that you'll enjoy the latter stories.


	7. VII Static

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**VII. -Static-**

-0-

The sound of footsteps crashing against the marble floor was almost anticlimactically dull as Beowulf and Reis sprinted into one of the narrow hallways inside the main building of Murond Holy Place. Behind them, a Shrine Knight gave chase, eyes alit with righteous fury. Beowulf wasn't quite sure why they were running--the Shrine Knight _was_ just a regular knight--but Reis had indicated she had a plan. At least, that's what he hoped her slight smile had meant before she took off down the hall.

She stopped suddenly, her colorful skirts flaring outward like a blossoming flower on haste as she spun to face him. There was a blandness in her eyes that spoke plainly of the dangerous energies that churned within her as she parted her lips. Flinging himself against the wall before she exhaled, the hunter barely avoided getting hit by the electricity sparking wildly in a thick thundercloud mist of blue and purple. More voltage than a human body could withstand slammed into the knight's unprotected body, and he screamed in agony as the currents pumped into his nervous system, overloading his pain sensors to a plane of existence where pain no longer existed. The breath of lightning ended--Reis had an aversion to torture--and Beowulf neatly ended the Shrine Knight's life with a sword thrust to the heart. He didn't seem to have felt that killing blow, and his limbs continued to twitch spasmodically even after death.

Beowulf glanced at Reis, who was too busy looking behind her to take notice. _Dragoner Reis, with the power of a dragon. Dragoner Reis, of a dragon. But she's just Reis, no matter what they say._ Then he noticed that he was staring at her hands, those small and delicate and deceptive hands, and looked away.

"Beowulf, let's go here." Her voice was as soft and earnest as ever, and it surprised him that such dulcet tones could come from the same place as the unforgiving forces of nature. When he looked up, he noticed that she had opened a door and was now standing beside it, slight worry marring her features.

_Best to do as she says. She knows this place far more than I ever could; she's lived and worked here for years before Lionel._ "Alright." It was hard for him to reply more substantially since the sunset-burned fields of Mandalia, and he knew she had noticed. As he walked inside the room, he was hit by a musty sigh emitted by the combination of old books, pounds of dust, and unsought knowledge. "A bookroom?" he wondered out loud, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to get used to the dimness of the room.

"Yes. This is the room I was head cataloguer of." Reis walked past him, her deep and calming scent an all too brief respite from the encompassing melancholy of the place. Golden hair shifted one way, then another as she took in the room. "It hasn't changed," she commented without turning around.

"But you have." He didn't realize he had vocalized the thought until she turned around, her head tilted to emphasize the confusion playing out on her face.

"Yes...and I'm grateful for it," she said slowly. Then, she frowned. "Most of it, anyway."

He tried not to say anything, because doing that would just lead one step closer to the questions that he wanted so desperately to ask. _Do you like how you are now? Do you enjoy the power? Do you enjoy wielding it? Do you enjoy using it to kill?_

_Are you still 'Reis'?_

The corners of her lips were curved in a small smile as she approached him. "Of course, it's because of you I've become this way."

He nearly flinched. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his tone dagger-sharp.

It was true. If he hadn't allowed himself to be tricked, she would've never had to save him. She wouldn't be _this_ now...

She stopped, confusion causing her to frown as she stared at him. "It...it's like I've always said. It's because of you that I can be more open to people. I've always been grateful for that..." Worry began to take over confusion as she began to wring her hands, and even with the dim light he could see the question in her eyes. "Beowulf, is something wrong?"

"It isn't important," he said, trying to convince himself of the fact. Yet, the words continued to pour out anyway. "I'm just wondering how you feel as you are now."

"What...do you mean?" The worry melted off of her face, leaving her normal blank expression in its stead. Even her tone became drier, shaking off all vestiges of empathy and feeling.

"As a...dragoner," he grit his teeth at that term, but forced himself to continue, "do you still retain the instincts of a dragon?"

The question hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment before Reis strode forward, past him. "It really doesn't matter, compared to the situation we're in now. I wonder if everyone's gotten to this building like we planned?"

Frowning at the brush-off--Reis was at least somewhat subtle--Beowulf reached out and grabbed her wrist as she continued towards the door. The combination of surprise and something he didn't want to think of as fear on her face made him feel guilty. Although his grip was gentle, he had still never physically handled her this way before. "Reis, please."

"I don't...this isn't important. Why do you want to know?" There was only fear on her face now, something that bothered him immensely.

"Because..." _you killed with your bare hands you were smiling how could you_, "I want to talk about what happened at Mandalia."

Although there was still fear lingering in her expression, there was now a dullness in her eyes that made him think of the look in her eyes when she used her draconic breaths. "Beowulf, I don't think this is the time for that--"

"Is everyone else in the main building like we planned?"

"...No."

"Then, we have plenty of time."

"No, I don't see the point." Wrenching her hand from his grasp, she frowned as she looked up at him. "It's because I killed that chocobo, isn't it? But...you were going to do the same. What makes it right for you to kill it but wrong for me?"

He closed his eyes. "I don't smile when I kill."

Silence reigned for a long moment, Beowulf's quiet condemnation hanging in the air between them. In the dim light of the room he watched as her expression, once all earnest passion giving truth to her justifications, change into stunted bewilderment. Slowly one hand rose to her lips, fingertips indenting her pale lips. "I...smiled?" she asked waveringly, almost shaking her head before she frowned. "I...yes, I did. I was happy. The hunt was resolved peacefully, and we were unhurt. To myself...I proved that I could use my abilities to bring about the best results." With an unsure smile, she stared at him. "Didn't I do a good job?"

Her words, backed by that soft voice curled with the precise pronunciation only granted by a Murond education, sounded rational. Years ago, another lifetime ago, he would've backed down from the matter, if not agreed with it. Now, he was a changed man. In her absence he had fondly kept his memories of her while he worked to find her, and he would've admitted that his ideal of Reis altered how he saw her today. He loved her more than what was probably safe, but even with her reasoning it was very hard for him to accept that Reis was capable of...murder.

He once had to justify every murder he committed. To see her do the same sickened him.

"No, this isn't right." Tiredly, he ran a gloved hand through his hair. He felt as if he was running headfirst into an argument. "What you're doing isn't right for you."

"I don't understand. It's nothing you haven't done before."

He froze. Her needless killing...his needless killing. She couldn't have been referring to his days as a Temple Knight, could she? A wave of anger swept through him at her audacity, but more than that he was hurt.

How cruel had she become after living so many years as a dragon?

"I wouldn't have expected that from you," he said in a low tone. "My days with the Church have nothing to do with this."

"What?" Innocence softened her features, but then horror darkened them. "No, I meant that because you're a hunter you should understand. I'd never think of..." She lowered her head, the hand that was at her mouth now sweeping her hair out of her face. "That you could think I would be so petty...I know that you did what you had to do to survive...I wouldn't ever bring it up, especially like this..." Turning away, she wrapped her arms around her slender waist, her hair scattered over her bare shoulders as she kept her head down.

Beowulf had the sudden realization that he had probably gone too far. _Most likely_, he amended when he softly touched her shoulder and she flinched in response. And here he thought he couldn't feel any worse already. "Reis," he whispered, "Reis, I'm very sorry. I wasn't thinking. Please forgive me."

"Are you sure you haven't been thinking?" she asked, her tone as sharp as a monster's bite. "The way you've been acting lately...I understand it now. You think I'm a monster."

"Reis--"

"I am. I have these feelings, these desires...but I'm still human. I don't switch from being a human to being a dragon. It's not that easy..."

He brought his other hand onto her unoccupied shoulder and began rubbing gently, trying to comfort her. "I'll listen to you," he assured her.

It was little more than a twitch, but she shook her head. "If I do, you might...no. It...it has nothing to do with you."

It took too much energy to get angry, but a hot stab of the emotion still managed to burn through him at her words. It was as if she had gathered up every instance of his kindness, of his willingness to listen to her, to help her, to love her, and threw it right back into his face. It had nothing to do with him, _indeed_. "How can you say that?" he asked evenly. She turned to face him, surprise evident on her face. "Have I ever given you any reason to think that I would just ignore your problems? Do you honestly believe that if I didn't like what I hear, I would leave you?" The sudden widening of her eyes told him all he needed to know. "I can't believe this," he stated, dropping his hands from her shoulders in dull disgust.

It was Reis' turn to be contrite. "Please, Beowulf, I--" Suddenly she cocked her head towards the door, her eyes narrowing. He dreaded her words as soon as she opened her mouth. "Everyone's arrived. They're fine, and they're wondering where we are. They want to search the premises...Miss Meliadoul believes her father is somewhere nearby."

_Dammit, not now._ Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. "Well, let's go." As he turned to head out of the bookroom, he felt her hand clutching his wrist, a simulation of his earlier action. He glanced at her, unsurprised at his sudden need to forgive her for her words. The way she was staring at him, shame darkening her light complexion, helped a lot in that regard.

He could relate.

"Beowulf, I don't want to...to leave with all these harsh feelings. After we find Sir Tingel, I think we should talk. We haven't talked in a while, it seems." He felt a pang at those last words; that was more his fault than anything else.

Extricating his wrist from her grasp, he reached for her hand, entwining their fingers together. "That's a good idea," he replied, and she smiled shyly in return.

-End of Static-

This is a bit long and not very proofed. I'm very sorry for that. Personally, I was a little amazed at the reaction to 'Chill', so I decided to change the story I was planning for this title.

Reviewers!

Glad you liked the last chapter, TruebornChaos. It's like, even though I'm just restating things from WHW, there's still a point made about how it still affects him after all these years.  
APR...let's just say that I'm in credit card debt from buying my precious laptop, but without an APR until January I can pull myself out of debt by September. Growing up doesn't bother me, it's the growing old that does.  
I don't have BoF IV yet. My list was for all the games I plan on buying sooner or later.

I see, raitei. Well, as long as you enjoyed it. FFT doesn't go into depth about Beowulf beyond Reis and the fact that he has something against the Church, so I'm just making conjectures right now.  
If I can't regularly update a drabble series, then I'd just be ashamed of myself. Not like I don't feel bad enough about UFC. Well, thanks. Your words mean a lot to me.

Yo, TobyKikami. I see; now I'm interested in seeing how you envision Gustav.  
The last story wasn't meant to be creepy at all, but I'm happy you felt it was up to my usual standards.

Hello, Evil Mina! Hm...Beowulf wasn't actively hunting 'heretics' in WHW, if that's what you mean, but there is mention of it. I remember that Hurt and Heal contest; it was really surprising how fast Izlude and Beowulf had super-high HP. It was a little ridiculous. Izlude, though...are you sure you want to complain about his overuse to me? Well, I could point you to a fic where Izlude isn't nice and saintly, but I personally prefer Nice!Izlude.  
Speaking of GameFAQs, have you heard about the 'Nominate Tifa Lockheart for the Summer Contest' movement? It's kind of creepy.  
On the subject of mock badfic/bad reviews, I've now named my iPod mini 'weigraph' thanks to you. It was just too good to pass up. :)


	8. VIII Pure

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**VIII. -Pure-**

-0-

It was said that Zarghidas Trade City's true beauty came out during the night. The cynical would say that it was because the cloak of darkness helped mask the crumbling exterior of what was once one of the grandest land-based trade posts on the continent. Those naysayers would be right. Zarghidas was a dump filled with broken, yellowing buildings and petty crime. Yet, there was still something of pride in the honest people of the town, pride in both their roots in their city as well as the dignity of being Zeltennians and therefore supporters of the true heir to the throne, the lovely Queen Ovelia Atkascha. Restoration was no longer a dream, they were sure of it. This belief enabled them to wake each morning, to do their jobs with the efficiency needed in a bustling trade center, and to stand strong against the corruption and the dredges of humanity that lurked within the shadows of the slums. They had survived two wars and invasion; they could handle anything.

Beowulf admired that mindset, so different from his own. It was said that Zeltennians were forged through war, and Lesalians like himself were molded through peace. Seeing the beauty inherent in the cracks weaving through a wall that was still as sturdy and resilient as the day it was made, he could believe it. After setting down their meager possessions at the inn in the wake of rescuing and recruiting the otherworldly foreigner, he and Reis took a long walk through the narrow alleys. They studied the aging buildings, watched the townspeople go on their daily business, and visited the many shops the city had to offer. When the night descended upon them, tiny white dots persistently twinkling despite the engulfing blackness, she turned to him. With one step she closed the distance between them, staring up at him with those eyes he swore could keep him entranced for a lifetime with all the subtle shifting emotions they expressed.

He would like that.

Leaning into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her eyes holding him with that special brand of magic that had always commanded him. With the barest silver of conscious thought he returned her gesture, reveling in how it felt to simply hold her. He should've been able to experience those feelings every day for the last six years, but that sobering thought didn't dampen his elation now.

She smiled, an upturning of her lips touched by the moonlight. "This place...there's a purity to it. To keep struggling on...there's something truly beautiful about that."

Yes, he could definitely agree with that. A smile touched his own lips at her words--_she's incredible_--and her smile widened. "I thought the same thing the first time I came here," he replied.

At these words, her smile shrunk until she looked almost perturbed. "Was it...when you were looking for me?"

_Ah_. He shook his head as he adjusted his hold on her. "No, it was during the war...the Fifty Year War, as they're calling it now. I had the opportunity to come here during a reconnaissance mission."

By the way she was staring at him now, with wide eyes and interest lightening night-obscured eyes, he knew he had her full attention. "It must've been dangerous, what with all the Ordalians here," she murmured.

He almost laughed at the concern now wrinkling her brow, expressed over a decade after the fact. Leaning in, he kissed her on the forehead. "Well, I'm still here, aren't I?" he teased, grinning as she gave him a withering look. It was always so cute how she worried about him when he told his stories of his years in the war. "Fine, fine. Yes love, it was dangerous, but it had to be done."

"I see." But her expression did not change. "How was this town during the occupation?"

He had to think about that; his memory had never been very good. "Ah...well, it was sad. Trade cities are supposed to have a certain amount of immunity to war, but the Ordalians completely disregarded it. They brutally oppressed the townspeople and impressed a number of civilians into their army." Shrugging, he attempted to smile. "But Zeltennians are a sturdy people. They always kept their head up and continued on as if nothing was there to disrupt their lives." This was not exactly true, not necessarily what his own bits and snatches of memory was telling him, but it would suffice. Reis did not need to hear about the public executions designed to control the rebellious populace, nor did she need to know about the Ivalicians who betrayed their own countrymen for the sake of placating the 'winning side'. There was no need to burden her with the knowledge of the evils both sides committed, not when the scars of it all now shone with the moon's caress.

At the time, he was sure there was nothing worse than war.

"How sad," she breathed, resting her head just under his chin. "But they've kept struggling up to this point, haven't they?"

"Of course. They couldn't have just given up."

"'Give up'?" She rolled the words in her mouth as if she didn't like the way they tasted. "What kind of world would this be if everyone could just quit whenever they wanted?"

He held her tighter and did not respond. That was the way he had lived life for a long time, bouncing around from one arena to another, disliking every life he had thrown himself into. How many more would he have thrown himself into, if not for Reis? Or, would a life as a Temple Knight be his magnum opus as far as sad choices went? But he had struggled on, and they were reunited. They fought to reach this point, and together they would fight on to stay together.

There was no giving up for either of them.

He pulled away to get a better look at her face, only to see that she was gazing up at him once again. The night covered her features like a veil slashed several times by a blunt dagger, the effect of chiaroscuro lending a stark quality that highlighted the curves of her cheekbones, her eyes and the not-unfamiliar emotion they now expressed. Only the night could cast a tranquil beauty upon cracked walls, and only the night would dare make clear the need lazily flickering within her eyes.

Without a word, he led her back to the inn.

-End to Pure-

Hm, I always like having clear ideas of what to write for a story, and then completely redoing it in the course of actually writing it. Bah. Anyway, I feel sorry for Zarghidas, because their slums look so boring compared to Dorter's towering shanties (it's like Zozo, only without the rain and the liars). Actually, I feel sorry for the towns; they're so underrepresented in FFT fanfiction. Hm...

Reviewers!

You're absolutely right, TruebornChaos. Misinterpretations are the biggest cause for problems, and if the divorce trends and potential for wars are any indication, no one wants to understand anyone else either.  
Dude, your name for your PC is the same as everyone else's. This is why I don't own one. :) Thanks for the name suggestions.  
Read Evil Mina's review to see exactly why the whole Tifa thing is really freaky. Meh, FF only has male sex symbols for teenage girls.  
Have you seen my planned works list lately? Too many ideas, not enough time...

Hey, raitei. Glad you liked the last story; we'll be in happy-story mode for a bit.

Well, Evil Mina, according to _Penitentes_ Reis still hasn't come clean about her draconic nature by the DD, so, uh, don't hold your breath or anything.  
I fixed both the anticlimactic and the broken metaphor (I meant a flower blooming on haste), but I'm standing my ground on your last issue. The rule you're referring to is a new paragraph for a new speaker. As for intensity, that's sort of the point. Unless Reis has an outburst, their arguments tend to be pretty controlled because Beowulf hates arguing with anybody. I'm just trying to keep them in line with their WHW personalities. But, I do agree that the flow could be better.  
I think I'll set up a nomination thing. I'll call it the 'If you nominate Sephiroth for this contest, I'm going to come to your house and beat you with a game controller, so stop it already.' Don't you think it's catchy?

Er, yeah, TobyKikami. My opinion hasn't really changed.  
That line was me badly using dramatic irony. She can't control the intensity of her breaths, only how long she breathes. I guess.


	9. IX Cool

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**IX. -Cool-**

-0-

The inn, suitably called The Resting Shield, was the nicest one in Zeltennia castle town's shopping district. When Beowulf entered, the sight of tasteful paintings--paintings at all, really--and fresh-looking clientele in the spacious lobby confirmed it; it was certainly nicer than his usual fare as a hunter, his house notwithstanding. Reis followed, her eyes wide as she took in the surroundings. Her attention quickly became riveted on a particular painting featuring three teenagers, a girl and two boys, facing off against a ferocious red dragon breathing fire, leaving him to amble up to the innkeeper's desk. The innkeeper, a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, glanced up at him as he approached and smiled. "Welcome, sir knight. How may I help you tonight?"

No matter how much he insisted he was a hunter, everyone saw him as the knight he had once been. He wondered why this was even as he said in a cheerful tone, "I'd like a room, please." He looked over at Reis, who had her back to him as she continued to examine the painting. When he looked back, he was momentarily startled to see a flicker of distaste in the innkeeper's eyes.

"For you and your...consort, sir knight?" As soon as she said that, he understood. Upscale inns the country over did not appreciate certain kinds of working girls in their fine establishments; there were plenty of bars with rooms for that sort of business transaction. Glancing at Reis once again, it appeared that she hadn't understood the implication of the innkeeper's words, and for that he was thankful. The words wouldn't hurt any less, no matter if she had endured them before.

"For my wife and I, yes," he coolly responded. The innkeeper blushed and quickly asked for the pertinent information--what sort of room would he like, how much was he willing to pay, wouldn't he like a much more extravagant room, women do like those sort of things after all, come now, I can tell you are of a noble house...oh, of Lesalia? I see--and after the negotiations had broken down he was finally able to take another glance at Reis. His love was staring directly at him, eyes shining in the candlelight, her genuinely appreciative expression making her look like a young girl. It made him pause for a moment--_she looks amazing like that, but why does she look so grateful?_--but then he smiled and gestured for her to come over.

Ascending the well-worn stairs of the inn, Beowulf realized that he would be sharing a bed with Reis. Normally, this wouldn't bother him--oh no, not at _all_--but this time was a little different. She had only returned to her human form the day before, and during the day they had spent in the town of Zeltennia Castle he had been all too aware that she was still adjusting. They had spent much of the day arm-in-arm, not just because of any romantic intentions, but because her mind was still getting used to the idea of walking on two legs instead of four. The voluminous skirts of the outfit he had given her hadn't helped, either. She stared at eating utensils as if they were foreign objects, and he was sorry he had to remind her what they were for. But she was still Reis, still beautiful and empathetic and slightly naive in a world that sought to break people like her, and in the day he had spent with her he knew that his feelings for her hadn't changed a bit.

But she was still adjusting, and he was not going to deny her the time to do so.

_It's fine, it's fine. One day at a time, right?_ He snuck a glance behind him, which she caught and threw back at him with a smile. Weakly he smiled back before turning around and searching for their room. _One day at a time, one day at a time. We have our whole lives together. No need to rush back to all our old habits._ Finding the room, he opened the door and they entered. To his dismay, his eyes immediately focused on the bed, white sheets glowing almost silver with the moonlight streaming through the large opened window directly across from the door. _That is a rather nice bed...dammit. That's it, I'm sleeping on the floor._

"Beowulf?" The soft touch of Reis' hand landed upon his shoulder, and it was all he could to close his eyes and not move.

"It's a little chilly in here, Reis. Do you mind closing the window?"

"Not at all." He nearly sighed in relief as she moved away--then he wondered why, since he had always loved her touch--and headed to the other side of the room. After sliding the glass partition into place, she looked over at him. "Would you like me to close the curtains as well?"

Silver lined her face, giving her a cool, marble cast that reminded him of the statues of angels in Murond, all cold perfection and without emotion. Her eyelashes were dark upon the artificial paleness of her skin, enhancing her questioning gaze into something far more seductive when she lowered her eyes. "No," he breathed, before vainly trying to regain his composure. "It's fine. Let's go to bed."

Pleasant surprise made her expression that much more lively as she smiled at him. "Oh, alright," she replied, a girlish lilt to her voice setting off alarms in his head.

"I mean, let's go to sleep," he amended regretfully. There was the beginnings of a frown creasing her brow before she looked away, running a hand through her long, moonlight-caressed hair.

"Oh. A-alright." When she turned to him again, there was a puzzled look on her face that he couldn't help but notice. Her lips moved enticingly, but there was no sound. A bit concerned, he approached her with the intention of holding her--he could do that much, couldn't he?--so that she would be comforted enough to speak, but after a few steps she ran her teeth over her bottom lip and stared up at him in a way that made him pause.

Was that...hurt in her eyes?

"Beowulf, you...ah, thank you for restoring me to this body," she finally said. He raised an eyebrow at this.

"There's no need to thank me. I wanted to." That didn't sound strong enough in his mind. "I needed to."

She looked down, her expression conflicted once again. "Yes, I...I appreciate it." Confusion sparked in his mind at her cool attitude, but just before he opened his mouth to say something her eyes flickered upward, at his face. "But now that I'm...I'm fine again, you don't need to feel obligated to stay with me."

"'Obligated'?" The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you're kind." She couldn't have made it sound any more accusatory if she had screamed it at him. "That's the sort of person you've always been. If I were in trouble, no matter how small or large, you would help me with every ounce of your being, even..." she looked away, to the side, her voice becoming no more louder than a red panther kit's mewling as she said, "even if you have a whole other life before you."

He did approach her now, holding her loosely. It had been a bad idea to tell her about all his activities after her transformation, he saw that now, but he didn't think it would affect her so badly. After all, he was with her, wasn't he? "Reis, that's all in the past. The only thing that matters is that we're together again." A terrible thought settled into his mind. "Isn't that what you want?"

"I..." She seemed to shrink into herself in his embrace, trying to get away from him without taking a step. "I want you to be happy."

"I'm very happy," he stated. _Present moment excluded_, he continued in his thoughts.

Reis was shaking her head even before he had finished his sentence. "You had it all, Beowulf. You would've had a family by now, a secure job...you shouldn't have to throw it all away for my sake. That hurts more than...no, I just...your kindness is too much--"

"I didn't do any of this out of kindness," he interrupted. Cupping the side of her face with one hand, he compelled her to look up at him. "It's as I've said before: I love you. If I can help it, I'm not going to live life without you. I'll do anything it takes to ensure that we're together."

Slowly she brought one hand over his, slowly she gazed up at him. "That's like you, isn't it?" He was inordinately pleased that she didn't sound so accusing this time. "And I...I love you. Even as the holy dragon, my feelings were still there, but in this form my emotions are so heightened...they scare me," she ended in a timid tone. "But you seemed to dislike it if I did anything more than hold onto your arm like a lost little girl, and just now...so I thought maybe you resented me because you felt obligated to waste years of your life in order to...save me..."

A strange feeling, like a more painful form of relief, washed over him as he pulled her against him and held her tightly, running his hands through the soft strands of her hair. "No. No, I could never resent you. It was my choice, and I'm happy to have stuck by it. God, how could you even think that?" he chided her, though he was smiling.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her head resting against his shoulder as she held him back just as tightly. "I was just so confused. I was so scared..." He whispered something meaningless, something soothing against her ear, kissing it afterwards as if to seal it into place. Another kiss was pressed against her cheekbone, a line of them until he was one away from her lips--

_What am I doing? This doesn't change the fact that she's still...recovering..._

--and he pulled away.

"Beowulf?" she whispered, her voice tinny against his ears, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"I really shouldn't. You're...you need time to recuperate--"

"Beowulf." He looked at her face, the moonlight cruel enough to reflect off of the trace of water in her eyes. "No matter what you say about being kind, don't...your good intentions hurt..."

Calloused fingertips drifted over the gentle curve of her cheek as he considered. "Reis, is this what you really want?" he finally asked.

"_Yes_." She reached with one hand behind his neck, her fingers running up through his hair as she looked at him imploringly. "I want to feel human again."

The words confused him, but if it was what she wanted... "I think I can help, then." Once again he cupped her face, his thumb just below her chin as he tipped her face up. He dimly noted that there were tears rolling down from her closed eyes as he leaned towards her. For a moment he waited there, a finger's width from her parted lips, their breaths mingling until there was nothing between them but themselves.

Then, he kissed her.

Had it ever felt so good to kiss her? Nostalgia demanded that yes, the hazy reflections of years past was much more incredible than this moment's anticipation fulfilled, but nostalgia was a bitter liar. Beowulf had no such desire to become the past's advocate, not any longer when Reis was here, Reis was real, and Reis was holding onto him as if parting now would be the end of her.

He felt the same way.

Once, too many years ago, he had made a promise to her. He had promised to marry her, to give her everything that had once only belonged to him. His name, his possessions, everything but himself--but he had already given her that. They would be together forever.

Finally, forever had arrived.

-End to Cool-

Hah...right now I'm sitting in front of my computer with tears in my eyes. If it weren't for _The Last Five Years_ original cast soundtrack, I wouldn't have felt the emotion needed to complete this story on time. What an incredible musical. As far as the story goes, I realize lately I've been writing the same thing over and over again, but I honestly hope everyone finds something deeper in this particular story. By the way, we're now into the last set of breaths.

Reviewers!

Somehow, I think you speak the truth, TruebornChaos. It's alright, this will be my last Beowulf/Reis story anyway.  
It may have drizzled during the Dorter slums battle, but I remember it as being overcast. Ah, I don't care. Zozo did have awesome music.  
Yes, you spelled 'catchier' right. :)

raitei, thank you for the kind words. I hope you'll feel the same way once I start writing for the _Fire Emblem_ section.


	10. X Blaze

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**X. -Blaze-**

-0-

Another day, another battle.

Beowulf sighed in frustration as he surveyed Dolbodar Swamp. As a hunter, he had learned to avoid confrontations with monsters unless it was to his advantage. But no, now that he was traveling with Ramza's party everything in the wilds between towns just loved to swarm around them. Humans, monsters, humans working with monsters...hell, a _bush_ had smacked him the other day. He didn't care that it was actually a sentient monster; it looked like the local foliage and it actually attacked him. _Caterpillars_ fell out of its branches when it wound up one leafy appendage and thwacked him with it. For over a decade he had studied aspects of magic the common person couldn't even imagine, and yet nothing was as surreal as being abused by a smiling plant.

Exhaling heavily through gritted teeth, he tried not to think about it any longer. But...a bush!

Silent as ever, Reis approached his side. "Beowulf, are you alright?" she asked, gently touching his forearm. He shook his head and continued to study the assorted enemies that dared to challenge them this time. "It's about the other day, isn't it?"

"Mm."

"It really was a monster. You're a hunter, you should know these sort of things."

At the implied insult, he turned his attention away from the murky swampland to give her an affronted look. "It isn't as if I had any reason to hunt down plant life before," he said defensively.

"Of course." Smiling, she patted his arm, which was all the physical interaction he could expect while the rest of the group was around. "After this, we'll be in Limberry. We could use some rest from the last few days, don't you think?"

He smiled at her attempt to cheer him up and replied, "You're right. Well, let's focus on the battle then."

As battles went, Beowulf would later think, it started out like many others. There was an assortment of gobbledegucks, squidmen, and morbols, as well as a very out-of-place male summoner. It was that last one that had everyone confused, but in the scheme of things it paled in comparison to phony saints, Lucavi, and foreigners from other dimensions appearing in Ivalice and running to Zarghidas, which was where the rumors had placed Cloud and the reason why they were crossing this godforsaken swamp in the first place. The monsters worried everyone more than the lone summoner, and since these were low-tier monsters compared to their vastly superior skills they weren't all that worried to begin with. All the summoners the party had come across knew no more than how to summon the lesser guardian spirits, and it took forever for that to happen anyway. So, as per Ramza's orders, they attacked the monsters first.

That was the only mistake they needed to make.

After one morbol's moist flesh hardened into chalky-gray stone, Beowulf turned to see how Reis was doing. The dragoner was a fair distance ahead, holding her place on one of the dry patches of land with remarkable fortitude as she charred one goblin with a blast of fire. The sight of her expelling the elements made him bristle in discomfort, but he made a valiant attempt to reason with himself._ It's better that she can fight. After all, it could be worse. She could be stuck in a position where I can't help her, where the only person she can depend on is herself. What would she do then, if she doesn't have her powers?_

Seconds after he thought that, Beowulf noticed the summoner was a wee bit too close to Reis for comfort just as the mage finished his incantation with a name:

"Bahamut!"

When Beowulf had been a Temple Knight, the Church had given him all the resources necessary in learning the different magical paths one could traverse. He'd never gotten farther than summoning a moogle, but just the same he knew about Bahamut, the King of Monsters, the dragon god who dwelt far beyond the heavens. Summons were nothing more than afterimages, wisps of mana held into the preceived idea of the guardian beast in question with nothing more than a magi's concentration. It was through the elder mage known as a caller that Shiva and Ifrit and even Bahamut would agree to lower themselves and appear in the physical realm, but those mages had long been regulated to literature while summoners took all the glory. The Church didn't like the idea of humans calling forth beasts of power comparable to lesser gods...or saints.

Yet, there was something a little off about this summoner, whom the monsters saw as a friend.

"Reis!" Beowulf yelled, trying to get her attention so that she would get out of the summon's trajectory, but she seemed frozen to the spot. Splintered wings shimmered into existence behind the summoner, quickly followed by the rest of Bahamut's spindly body rippling into place. The color of its hide filled into the translucent outline, the deep, dusky purple formidable against the dull gray sky that always covered the Limberrian swamp. Bahamut threw its head back in a pretense of a roar, flapping its wings once to propel its image high above the swamp. Eyes as deep as the moonless night stared down, and Beowulf could only watch in growing horror as Reis only looked up in response.

Blue flames rushed out of the dragon god's mouth, its breath igniting the gaseous air that rose from the swamp and causing the entire land mass Reis had been standing on to erupt in flames. Bahamut circled the area, breathing its destructive mega flare all the while, and to the stunned hunter it appeared as if it was trying to fan the flames with its gigantic wings, the summon in turn summoning a whirlwind blaze to utterly consume its lone prey. That something purported to be noble by the ancient texts would have the audacity to be so cruel when it was nothing more than a halfway effective doppelganger snapped Beowulf out of his shock. He did the only thing he could do under the circumstances.

He ran straight into the inferno.

Later, he would realize that he had been instinctively shielding himself with his mana reserves as he barrelled through the flames. He might have survived without it, after all Reis had, but he would've been in no position to help her as she needed. As it was, the fire bit into him mercilessly, going far deeper than just his clothes or body. He choked down his cry of pain and clenched his eyes shut, groping blindly into the heart of the blaze. Only the thought that Reis had to be suffering worse kept him going.

The pain stopped, the resulting calm like ice water after a trek through the desert. A few steps before him was Reis, kneeling with her back to him. He walked up to her, intending to heal her, but just as he reached her she stood up and stared into the sky, where Bahamut hovered placidly before them. Suddenly, she gasped. "W-what do you mean?" she cried out just as the phantom beast dissipated.

"Reis?" Crossing the last step to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, not caring that there may have been enemies still around. A shot rang out like a thunderclap, felling the summoner, the sudden noise causing her to tense. When she realized what had happened, she sagged against him in exposed relief. With tiredness worming its way through his body, Beowulf lowered the both of them to the ground, trying to support her as the adrenaline seeped from his body.

"He talked to me," she breathed, her fingers digging into his thighs with surprising strength. "He said, 'I accept you.' But I don't understand...I'm not a summoner..." The pitiful tone she employed as she whimpered out the last statement made Beowulf frown. He stroked her hair with one hand and murmured something about how it didn't matter what an image said, even though the phantoms the summoners created had never been able to talk.

It didn't matter what Bahamut said, even if they had knowledge of another dragon with the same dusky purple hide.

-End to Blaze-

Sorry, I'm a Bahamut fangirl. :) Bahamut seems to get his kicks challenging heroes for the right to summon him, but since FFT's summons are a throwaway compared to other FF games he's probably bored. There should've been more references to FFIV since it has his best appearance, but it just wouldn't fit!

If you've taken a glance at my bio lately, you may have noticed that there are updates on the FE fics but none on the FFT side. Right now I have very little interest in FFT, and so after this series is done I'll be taking a break from this section. I still intend to finish what I have left in my planned list, but after that I'll stop bloating up this section and explore other fandoms. It's been a great almost-two years, but it's time to move on. Though, I would still love to continue UFC.

Reviewers!

No, TruebornChaos, I did understand. I was just making a comment. Bah, sorry.  
You should definitely play _Fire Emblem_. It's at least on par with FFT, and in some ways far more enjoyable (particularly the characterization of all the PCs).

Hi, raitei! Your review had me smiling. There are only two things that can truly help one's writing: writing more and reading more.  
Let's see...I'm going to focus on FE7 because it's the one I'm playing now. If you want information regarding my upcoming FE fics, please read my planned list in my bio. Though, I'll tell you that I'll probably have my Fiora-centric story up first.


	11. XI Shock

BU - RE - SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**XI. -Shock-**

-0-

The atmosphere in Goug's largest bar was festive, helped by the fact that the alcohol fumes were so heavy anyone who entered felt an immediate buzz. Of course, the buzz was light enough that everyone just had to buy a drink to strengthen it a bit, and then another one for good luck, and another one for even better luck. The average number of drinks for the various drift workers, shopkeepers, rumormongers and people who just wanted a good time on the isolated hunk of land reached four in the wintertime and an astounding seven when the cloying humidity of summer rolled by like invisible fog.

It would suffice to say that the master of the bar was quite pleased by the end of every night, as well as more than a little drunk.

"Hmm..." Beowulf started just before he took a gulp of whatever was in his mug--his taste buds hadn't been working so well since a couple drinks ago, "you okay there, love?"

Reis turned away from whatever faraway object she was trying to focus on, a rather silly smile on her face. "I'm fine," she answered in a childish tone. Maybe it was slurred; the din of the bar certainly wasn't helping his wavering senses. "I'm just feeling a bit tingly and warm."

Beowulf only nodded. Yes, he was feeling fine too. Normally he didn't drink to excess--certainly nothing like tonight--but Reis had been curious and everyone knew not to order water right off. They had been matching each other drink for drink at first, only because she had insisted on his joining in. There was that shot of tequila, then a shot of vodka, then a shot of whiskey because Meliadoul came around and she had had a bottle of rare Fovoham whiskey hidden in her surcoat, and once the pious female knight had left they switched to beer briefly before moving up the quality scale into lager, which was around the time he realized he couldn't taste anything and Reis had taken to staring at things and blinking in confusion. Oh, they were both going to pay for it in the morning, but as he finished off his glass while admiring the soft curve of her neck to her bare shoulders he thought that maybe all the associated pleasures of an evening out would be worth tomorrow's inevitable hangover.

"Beowulf, stop that," he heard Reis say urgently, and that was when he realized that his gaze had lowered from her shoulders. He glanced at her face, took a moment to puzzle out if the redness of her face was from drinking or embarrassment, and smiled.

"Is it really so bad? Everyone else is in their own world." As if to punctuate his statement, a loud roar went up from the arm-wrestling contest at one of the back tables.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, a smile appearing on her face despite herself. "At least wait until later."

"I've always liked the way you think. Shall we leave?"

Grinning now, a rare sight for her, she attempted to stand and got it right the second time. "First, I'd like a glass of water. My mouth feels like it's made out of cotton."

"Alright. Be careful," he called as she began her wobbly journey to the bar. He meant that in more of a try-to-keep-on-your-feet than anything else; his mind was too muddled to make anymore connections to his beautiful lover and the inherent dangers of bars.

"E-excuse me, can you please move?"

Her words, tinged with the hesitance that was a hallmark of being in an uncomfortable situation, had a sobering effect on him. Beowulf turned in his seat, and the sight before him made the rest of that delightful drunken haze lift from his mind.

The man was large. That was the first thing he noticed. It was also the only thing he really could notice because it was such a defining characteristic for this human being. Beowulf was reminded of a barrel, an apt description for the man's thick middle. It certainly looked like it could hold as much. In front of the barrel-esque man Reis looked like a child despite her height; she was obviously frail and delicate and tiny next to that man, a pit fire next to a roaring wildfire.

Beowulf stood, visions of a burnt-down bar dancing in his mind and making him naseous. Or perhaps that was a sign he'd had too much to drink, he wasn't sure.

Laughing belligerently, the man took a step forward, looking down at her like she was the next seven-course meal to fill his stomach. "Look at this little missy! You a dancer? Why don't you dance for me?" The man brayed goatish laughter, to which Reis responded by taking a step back. Beowulf watched with narrowed eyes, his stomach and head staging a minor rebellion for his crime of standing too quickly. Definitely too much to drink.

"Please," Reis said, and this time there was no hesitation in her voice. "I already have someone, so--"

"Y'hear that boys? Little missy's got someone!" Loud guffaws returned from the back table with the arm-wrestling contest, and the barrel-man grinned like a whole pack of goblins who've surrounded a young chocobo. He grabbed her arm, trying to pull her close. "No need to put yer money together for one, I'll be taking this one for my prize!"

Reis held fast. "Let me _go_." Beowulf could hear the desperation and lingering threat behind those words and was afraid his vision hadn't been too off after all. This fear caused him to quash his body's rebellion with the ruthlessness of a knight of the Church and move forward, reaching Reis and, with a little jolt of electricity to the man's wrist, pulling her away to safety.

"What do you think you're doing to my wife?" he asked evenly, staring up at the man. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to look up at someone, and having to do it to now bothered him. Reis, displaying a burst of common sense, moved away from the protective circle of his arms, instead choosing to stand behind him.

"More like what was I gonna do to yer wife," the barrel-esque man grumbled, rubbing his sore wrist with a degree of resentment, "and it don't matter to you. Right boys?" The resulting pop of agreement was less than before, but it still cheered the man up. Beowulf could feel Reis leaning against him, whispering something that sounded like a plea to get out of here before it was too late, and any other time he would've heeded her words.

This time, though, he was having the sudden realization that he was a man.

Oh, he already knew in the logical sense that he was male, what with the substantial evidence that pointed towards that conclusion. But there was a difference between having the body and having the mind of a man. Here he was in a bar at night, protecting a woman--his woman--from a thug who was larger and brawnier than he could ever be. It was not insurmountable odds, not even much of a challenge at all to him, but it was the viewpoint that mattered.

He had promised to protect her. He couldn't drink enough to ever forget that.

It was the viewpoint--as well as all the liquid courage he had imbibed earlier--that caused him to say, "Normally, I wouldn't care to draw this out. However, the moment you touched Reis you left me no choice."

"Beowulf!" Reis gasped, clutching handfuls of his cape as if that would restrain him. "You don't need to do this..." It was kind of her to say so, but the fact that she needed to, whether out of fear of his safety or his opponent's, bothered him. Didn't she believe that he would protect her? He would now. He'd make up for every doubt she had, every failure of his that made her doubt.

After all, that was a man's duty.

"Yeah? Is that so?" the scoundrel asked in disbelief. Beowulf noticed, with some distaste, that the man was dressed in the garb of a thief. He wasn't sure why so many of the petty thugs of Ivalice wore green squire and thief outfits like it connected them in their mediocrity, but the thought of all those people getting their clothes from the same place was amusing. Knowing Wiegraf as a comrade from the last war and not the incarnation Ramza had described, he knew that honorable soul would've been insulted to see someone like the man before him dressed as a member of the Death Knights/Corps. It was funny in a sad way how drastically things could change, and Beowulf chuckled over it because someone had to.

However, he neglected to realize that laughing is strictly prohibited when one is seconds away from getting into a fight.

With a roar, the barrel-like man threw a heavily telegraphed punch. Instinctively, Beowulf held a hand out, as if he were going to hold the man's meaty fist at bay. Just before the fist collided into his open hand, he called up a charge of lightning magic through his arm, repelling the punch and sending the man flying through the air. Like a heap of trash, the large man slammed into a table, sending glasses of various liquors, people, and the end of an exciting poker game--certainly more exciting than a bar fight, at least--crashing onto the floor.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Beowulf could feel Reis slowly moving away from him in what seemed like relief. Feeling more than a little proud of himself, he turned around to ask her how she was doing and was struck by the sight of her face. She was staring at him like she didn't know who he was, and there was something odd creeping into her wide eyes and pursed lips.

It looked like sadness.

"Beowulf, that's...you used magic? Don't you think..." A sidelong glance was thrown to the unconscious man on the floor before she spoke again. "Don't you think you went too far?"

He was shaking his head before he realized it, a tentative smile on his face as his mind worked to understand the present moment. Shouldn't she be...happy? Appreciative, maybe? Everything was going perfectly just a few minutes ago... "Ah, well, that's just the way these things turn out. You don't have to look so shocked."

Reis twitched in what seemed like disgust. He wasn't sure why, but he was sure his eyes weren't tricking him, especially when her expression turned completely blank. "I'm going to Mustadio's house. You should be able to make it to the inn by yourself if you can make jokes about this." Shaking her head in the way only women mired in complete disappointment can, she turned and left the bar. Beowulf watched her go, confused and acutely aware of the fact that he probably did something wrong.

Suddenly, he needed a drink.

-End of Shock-

Eh...not sure what kind of mood this inspires, but I just felt like writing something ridiculous. Out of character, perhaps, but in my experience alcohol can open up the hidden crevasses of our personality that we don't like or don't even want to admit we have. Underneath the silliness of the story, there is a question: Beowulf wants to protect Reis, but Reis wants him to acknowledge that she's suited to stand right by his side. With these conflicting desires, who is held back more?

Reviewers!

Yo, Trueborn Chaos. Nah, Bahamut's definitely in his own class, considering his non-elemental Mega Flare, but he's always been the type to show more of an interest in the matters of humans than other summons (well, maybe except for Ramuh, according to VI and IX). An oddity like Reis would encourage him to test out what a dragoner is really supposed to be. And if I were the queen of dragons, I'd make aspiring heroes do ridiculous things just for the amusement factor.

Hey, TobyKikami. You're just saying that because I'm leaving. :) But I thank you anyway. Your to-the-point comments have always been a joy.

Hello, raitei. Personally, I don't think it's possible to ever master writing. Maybe that's why it's so fun.  
Nah, male pride is this story. In 'Blaze', Beowulf didn't even know the tree spirit monsters existed before one of them hit him. Being hit by what should be inanimate would make anyone dwell on it. God knows if one of my bamboo plants smacked me I'd be freaked out.  
In my opinion, Bahamut did exactly what Beowulf can't: accept Reis for exactly what she is, even if she doesn't know it herself. Beowulf, as a normal human being and therefore with his own ideals and beliefs constantly affecting how he sees things, can't be nearly as impartial. That's not to demean him at all, that's just human nature.  
Have you played FE:TSS? It's a fun game, but compared to FE7 it's a step back. It's a little hard to get inspired from it, but I still managed.

Nice to meet you, Ilvinaeda (that looks very Celtic/Gaelic/Welsh to me). I'm not nearly as professional in writing as you are in your review, trust me. I find that my writing style is very basic compared to a lot of other writers on but I want the stories to connect with everyone, not impress them. Anyway, someone's got to write about the minor characters. It's really affirming to read that you were especially affected by 'Cool'...it was the genesis of this series, more or less. Your description of Reis is very poetic, something I couldn't hope to achieve. In 'Chill', what I thought was interesting was how everyone seemed to judge Reis as a human, including yourself. In a way, that shows just how alone Reis truly is. Then again, the story is colored by Beowulf's viewpoint; Reis' would definitely be interesting.  
Anyway, thank you for your review; it really made me examine the meaning behind the stories I've written. Self-reflection is good, isn't it?

Evil Mina, you are so lucky I was playing FE:TSS until nine Tuesday night and therefore started my proofreading and internet time much later than usual. Well, maybe you're not lucky since you have to deal with my reply :P  
Thanks for the mini-reviews for the last three chapters. I was starting to think that my writing was scaring everyone away. As for your question, the names of the titles are derived from the order of Reis' breaths, hence the title. I'll list the actual chronological order of the stories as they relate to the game in the next story.  
FE7, to me, is very good. I'm not much for SRPGs, but the gameplay is engaging and the tactical aspects of it far outweigh FFT, especially since you can't revive dead units. The story's alright, but the main draw is the characters due to the support system, where two people stand around each other for a number of turns until they have a conversation. The talks can get really indepth into a character, and not only does it give bonuses in battle but it also affects endings. So yeah, a character writer like me can really appreciate that.  
In regards to the giftfic, I'm instead modifying a story I started, the original angsty, angry _BU-RE-SU_. I'm planning to attach it as one of the side stories, since WHW also had three side stories at the end of it all. So, I can only hope you'll like it.


	12. XII Divine

BU-RE-SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**XII. -Divine-**

-0-

Beowulf leaned forward as if he was about to impart a secret of deep importance. "It's all in the quantity of the sugar combined with the tea leaves. That's what makes good tea."

"You're only saying that because you're addicted," Reis murmured, taking a sip of her delightfully sugar-free lemon tea. A cool breeze from the sea tousled her locks like a heavy hand, scattering the dark blond locks over her shoulders. She felt the motion, but not the refreshing quality of such a boon on a late August afternoon. Beowulf did, prompting him to only smile indulgently at his lover while he leaned back in his seat.

"It's a shame. You don't know what you're missing out on, love." He took a sip of his own tea, which would've once been called 'plain' if it weren't for the spoonfuls of sugar dumped inside. "Haven't you heard the expression, 'sweets for the sweet'?"

She closed her eyes, a light smile playing at the corners of her lips. "No."

"Oh, I'm sure you have."

Long fingers drummed the side of the tea cup as Reis began to blush. "No, and it's because I don't like sweets. If I did, you would've said it a long time ago, along with all those other compliments."

He laughed, a rich sound that caused her to shiver delightfully. "And you deserved all of them. You should just accept it _and_ some of my tea. It wouldn't kill you."

Opening her eyes, Reis shook her head in amusement. "I'm going to get such an ego out of all of your compliments. Is that what you want?"

Beowulf's eyes widened in surprise, but his tone reminded undauntedly cheerful. "I just want you to accept how wonderful you are, of course."

"Ah..." A full, rosy blush darkened her creamy skin as she reached for her cup of tea. She took a sip, composing herself with the time she spent not looking at his infuriatingly pleased expression, then lowered the cup. When she glanced at him again, only the faintest hint of pink remained. "You haven't changed a bit," she stated in a mostly bland voice.

He wasn't sure if she meant for it to sound so much like an accusation. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

"No, not at all." Reaching out with both hands, she gripped her cooling teacup as she stared across the table at him. "It's comforting to see that at least one thing remains constant in this world...at least, for me..."

Now he reached for her hands, squeezing them comfortingly as he gazed into her light eyes. "You're the same where it counts. It took me a while to fully realize that, but I do see it," he murmured, knowing that her sensitive hearing would catch his words easily. His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands, rough calluses against deceptively soft skin. "Anyway, there are other things that are the same now as they were then."

Her lips twitched at this. "Other than the fact that there's a war going on?"

"Well, yes..." he began to say before suddenly frowning. "Well, maybe not." Reis began to laugh, taking one of her hands away from his in order to cover her mouth and perhaps hold back the laughter. It didn't work, and a moment later he joined her. When they finally lost their fit of the giggles, his hands still cupped over one of hers, twin smiles on their faces, he tried to continue with their earlier topic. "So, are you going to accept the fact that you're an incredible woman who deserves every compliment she gets?"

She used the hand that previously covered her fit of laughter to comb through her hair as she said, "Only if you accept that you're the same."

"I'm a woman now?"

"Beowulf..."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, enjoying her look of exasperation. "Yes, I'll accept it." She only smiled, prompting him into asking, "So, aren't you going to accept it?"

Her smile grew wider. "Sorry, but no."

"That's a horrible trick, love. What happened to my sweet, honest Reis? You wouldn't believe how disappointed I am in you--" His good-natured tirade was cut off by a peal of laughter erupting from her, and even his slight indignation at being tricked was completely carried away by her melodious laughter. "What's so funny?" he asked in mock annoyance.

"You are, Beowulf." Any retort he had was immediately silenced by her brilliant smile. "We need to do this more often."

"Eat out?"

"Laugh." Her smile remained, but her eyes conveyed a wistfulness that granted a delicate sorrow to her youthful features. "We've rarely had the chance to do that."

The natural response--_well, we haven't seen any situations that would inspire that, you know_--was tempered by the wisdom of his advanced age of thirty-three years and an uncanny insight to Reis' subtly shifting moods. Instead, he squeezed her hand again and smiled comfortingly. "After everything is over, we'll be able to, don't you think?"

Slowly, the melancholic haze cleared from her eyes and she nodded. "I can't wait," she said, delight brightening her sepia eyes. "We'll be able to go home...to our home. That's...we've been meaning to do that for so long..."

'So long' was probably not an adequate phrase to describe six years and two transformations, but he still agreed with her all the same. "You'll love it," he replied, letting go of her hand to take his now cold cup of tea and drain it down. "My sister would love to meet you, and Lesalia is a nice place year round."

"I can't wait," she replied earnestly, sipping her tea and wincing at its cool flatness. "It really feels like everything will be resolved soon. But I wonder what's in Orbonne? It's just a very big bookroom."

Beowulf shrugged, unconcerned. "Nothing too dangerous, I hope. All we have to do is find Vormav and rescue Ramza's sister. That shouldn't be too hard."

"I hope you're right."

"Mm. Me too."

A comfortable silence fell over the couple, their faces both displaying the pensiveness they felt but couldn't voice. Reis was more given to pessimism than Beowulf, but it wouldn't hurt to _hope_, would it?

They'd gone too far to give that up.

"Beowulf," Reis said, her voice soft. "After everything, I'd like to visit Lionel again."

His eyes, crimson in the bright summer day, flickered towards her. "Bariaus Hill, you mean?"

"Yes, and..." Her teeth lightly worked over her bottom lip as she glanced at him. "Lionel Castle. Just to see the place where we met and lived."

He wanted to tell her that he had no reason to go there, the place where everything had changed, where their dreams had, if not ended completely, been delayed for a ludicrous amount of time. There were still people there who could remember phantom flickers of Beowulf the Shrine Knight and Reis the cataloguer, two people who were transfigured into a heretic and a dead person respectively. There wasn't anything there except the resigned sighs of another war and the subtle oppression the capital city of a Church-owned region needed to bear.

After all, it was a place where the Church ruled and dreams ended.

"Anywhere you want to go, Reis," he answered, even employing a slight smile so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable by asking this very sensitive boon.

She smiled, opened her mouth to voice a soft 'thank you', but a shadow fell over the table. Rafa stood there, looking very small and embarrassed as she nervously clasped her hands in front of her chest. "Um, Ramza wants everyone to meet at the south entrance. We're, um, we're going to camp out at Orbonne so we won't get too tired before everything."

"Thank you, Miss Galthana," Beowulf said just as Reis nodded in appreciation. The young girl smiled just a bit before she hurried away, ostensibly to find more members of Ramza's troop to deliver the news to. The hunter shrugged and stood, offering his arm to his lady love with a quirky little smile. "Shall we be off?"

Reis stood, self-consciously smoothing her skirts of any wrinkles before linking her arm with his. "I suppose so." They began to walk away from the small cafe, their next few lines carried by the sea breeze to waft down to anyone else who might've enjoyed a seat outside.

"I really enjoyed today."

"But you didn't have anything sweet. No matter, though; after this, I'll take you to some of the best restaurants Ivalice has to offer."

"Fine, fine. After everything is done, let's travel and eat and everything else we've ever wanted to do. I mean, saving Ivalice is important, but..."

"We have our lives to live too, right?"

"Yes. We have the rest of our lives together, finally..."

-End to Divine-

If you're like me, then you believe that everyone died in Murond Death City and therefore this makes a rather depressing ending. The only thing important about this story is that the essential quality of Beowulf and Reis' relationship is one of comfort and companionship. It is not that Beowulf has trouble sleeping at night because of his past or that he can't deal with some aspects of hers, and it's not that she's a dragoner and she's confused. Because of that, this is probably the most important story of the bunch because of its simplicity.

Chronological list of stories: Blessed, Cool, Burn, Electric, Shock, Freeze, Chill, Static, Blaze, Pure and Divine, with Warmth being the odd one out.

For all intents and purposes, this is the last main _BU-RE-SU_ story. There will be some extras, one funny, one serious and one angry, but this is more or less my ending in the FFT section. I still have _The Machinist_, which I will enter in the IcyBrian contest and which will get stomped by whatever offering DK has--why, why, _why_--and there's still the prizefic for Fallen Dynasty and _3_ for canon purposes and maybe UFC because _Fire Emblem_ doesn't seem like it'll inspire me for too long, but everything is going to be posted between work and school. So, see ya in this section or another.

To all the reviewers who have supported my FFT stories for the last two years, thank you. It was only through each and every one of your reviews--some funny, some painfully analytical, and some that were more conversation than anything else--that I craved to have something out every week for you all to enjoy. You all, especially you frequent and weekly reviewers who know who they are, were my drive to write, and my only hope is that I had entertained you in this short amount of time.

Finally, the last (very short) reviewer responses:

TobyKikami, I'm eagerly awaiting your next FFT fic. Email me or something once you get it posted up, alright? I'll bring all my critiquing skills to bear, just for you! D

TruebornChaos, TSS is the eighth FE game, with the plainly titled _Fire Emblem_ being the seventh in the series. It's confusing, I know. Anyway, in my dragon court you'd certainly be the crown prince because you've never failed to be kind.

raitei, chin up! You're definitely good enough to say what you think about any story. We all read using our own life experiences, and it's through relating how we feel because of them that we all become better, not just at writing but at living. Now, if you ever come into another one of my stories without self-confidence in what you're saying, I'm going to be very disappointed in you:)

To everyone else, readers and reviewers both, laters.


	13. SS 1: Panty Knight

BU-RE-SU

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

**1. Panty Knight**

-0-

It was in Lenalia Plains when Beowulf, who had been following up on a rumor about a dragon appearing in the Fovohamian region, realized that Reis would need clothes.

This wasn't exactly an accurate statement, not yet. After all, he hadn't even come close to locating the enchanted state of his fiancé, and even if he had he surely didn't have a cure for her just yet. He was working on that, too. Dragons didn't need clothes, he assumed correctly, and Holy Dragon Reis was, well, a _dragon_. However, one day he would find the Cancer stone that he believed would cure her, and that would be the day that Reis would need clothes. It just didn't seem sensible to cart a naked woman back to Lesalia from God only knows where; he had to be ready with the proper equipment! Never mind the fact that Reis couldn't actually equip clothes in the literal sense of the word, which is the kind of detail that leads to ribald jokes. No, she could only _wear_ clothing, and the realization sent the hunter back to his house instead of the nearest general store.

Once in his home on the outskirts of the grand capital city of Ivalice, Beowulf made his way to his--someday soon, _their_--bedroom. In there he kept Reis' valise, the very thing that had led to their first meeting so many years ago. Crouched before it, his hands faltered at the latch. Rifling through someone else's luggage, especially a woman's, went against his sensibilities. After all, that was someone's private property, and no self-respecting man would ever want to be caught hands-deep into feminine garments of all sorts. Even if this was his house and the likelihood of his sister coming over or bandits ransacking the place was practically nonexistent, the uncomfortable feeling associated with such a gross act of disregarding a woman's privacy remained.

Following that chocobo-convoy line for a moment, he stood and walked over to his dresser drawers, where he removed a paper package. Ripping open the package, he found what he had been looking for: the outfit he had bought for Reis but had been too

(_shy nervous isn't this too much would she really like it_)

uncomfortable to give it to her. It was risqué, what with the enlarged opening to show off both neck and shoulders, and he had feared that she would've thought him a bit...forward, presenting something like that to a Murond cataloguer and all. That, and the blouse, which was made with a durable material, would be a bit...well, it wouldn't have flattered her slender body one bit.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he had bought it.

Anyway, it would have to do. He placed the shirt and the skirts into a satchel, all the while aware that he was forgetting something. Well, those would have to do. Wasn't something that covered her body enough? As long as she didn't have to walk naked--

Right. She'd have to walk. Therefore, she needed shoes.

Damn, he really was going to have to open her suitcase after all.

He walked back to her luggage and clicked it open, exposing himself to a world of unimaginable colors. Plum, peach, sky blue, sunny yellow, white and many more exploded from the years-long containment and filled his world with vibrancy. Careful not to mess up Reis' careful folding, he removed some of the clothes, delicately feeling his way inside the medium-sized box until the leather ridge of a heel met with his hands. He extricated the boot, a black one that had obviously seen many years of use, and made a mental note to get new boots for her made once she was returned to her proper form. Patting through the inside of the valise again, he soon found the matching shoe and removed it, placing both boots into the bag designated for Reis' clothes. Satisfied, he began the process of putting everything back into her luggage, but as he lifted the bundle of clothing something white and frilly fell out. He looked at it, not recognizing the garment at first. After a moment, he nearly dropped the rest of the clothes onto the floor with the rise of something he couldn't quite describe in his stomach. Discomfort clutched at him, but try as he might to simply look away and continue on with his job, he just couldn't.

He should've known that she had feminine undergarments in her suitcase. After all, she was, well, _female_.

They were cute. Well, he supposed they were, as Reis loved to wear interesting and cute clothing. He didn't have an opinion on undergarments because, well, it wasn't something he saw a lot of since they were worn under everything else. They were what his sister called the 'bloomer' style, puffy, short--very short--cotton pants with little ruffles around the leg holes. There was, of all things, a tiny ribbon tied into a bow at the waist hem, and it was odd to think of a ward of the Church wearing this under her plain dresses. He thought that he would've remembered something like this, it was so odd.

--_Y-yes, I'm nervous but...that's to be expected, right? Let's continue...you can take those off..._--

After a moment, he decided not to follow _that_ convoy of thought and shoved the undergarment with the rest of her clothes, subsequently forgetting about it until three months later, when he was attacked by bandits.

-0-

It was a dreary-looking day in northern Limberry. With war occurring between Gallionne and Zeltennia inevitable, Beowulf chose to hunt in neutral areas when he could, and to stay silent when he was around Zeltennia; his accent was undeniably Lesalian once again. There were rumors that Limberry's Marquis Elmdor would ally himself with Duke Goltana's cause soon, but for now the small province was still a good hunting ground.

Germinas Peak was a nice place to hunt. It was no Araguay Woods, which was touted as a treasury of monsters despite having mostly chocobos, goblins and skeletons meandering about the environs. Dragons liked the mountain--even Reis was rumored to have shown up for a spell--and often there was an abundance of humans foolishly going after said dragons. Out of all of them, he remembered a group of five, chemists and mediators both, armed with mythical guns; something his sister would undoubtedly call, an air of understatement tainting her cultured accent, 'quite an intimidating lot'.

Beowulf stopped on his way up to the summit, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the midpoint of the peak. Far in the distance, he could just about make out the golden sands of Bed Desert to the west, and to the south there was the gray-white area of Poeskas Lake, a misnomer considering the lake had been drained of water and life during the last war. There were only ghosts and skeletons there now, as well as the occasional dragons and behemoths who used the place as one big salt lick. It was a good place to hunt, but Beowulf hated dealing with minor revenants; it reminded him too much of certain Church doctrines about how monsters had no soul.

Reis had a soul.

He brought up a gloved hand to his face, rubbing thoughtfully. A beard was coming in, a safeguard for the coming winter. Appropriately scruffy in his plain clothes and dark cloak, his sword sheathed underneath and only a worn sleeping bag and the satchel that contained Reis' clothes slung over his shoulders, he looked the part of a veteran hunter. Such people never had much on them other than the bare essentials.

But he was alone, and that was enough to make him a target.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here, boys," a man called out what had to be the most cliché line any suddenly appearing bandit band could say. If he had been Reis, Beowulf would've groaned at the unoriginality, but since he was a man who loved his puns he instead groaned because he didn't want to deal with this. Turning around, he was greeted by the sight of five young men dressed as thieves and squires, all of whom were wielding the ultimate sharp implements of death: broad swords and daggers.

Impressive.

At first, Beowulf was willing to engage in battle with them. After all, a lifetime ago he was an elite knight, and he currently possessed a Rune Blade. However, he hadn't used his Magic Sword techniques in a very long time, and lack of practice made the skills much harder to conjure through the sword. He wasn't the greatest swordsman around, either. With a sigh, Beowulf held his hands up in a display of compliance. "I don't have anything valuable," he warned as the leader pushed one shaggy-haired bandit forward.

"D-d-don't move," the kid stuttered threateningly at the hunter. Humiliated now, Beowulf rolled his eyes. The young bandit walked around him, eyeing him suspiciously all the while. Finally, the boy poked Beowulf's satchel with the tip of his dagger. "That looks nice."

A pinprick of fear jabbed into the hunter's stomach. "It's not, really. Just has some extra supplies."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"...Still looks nice."

The bandit leader, who looked about a decade younger than the thirty-something Beowulf, threw up his arms in exasperation. "Hey, you're a thief, dumbass! Just _take_ it from him!"

"Yes, sir!" the kid yelled back. "Ass," he muttered under his breath. Beowulf began rethinking his policy of peacekeeping. Before he could come to a decision, the teenager had fluidly cut the strap of the satchel and took the bag. "It's pretty heavy, boss!" the boy exclaimed. Dread began stabbing into the hunter's lower belly. He lowered his head, not willing to see the inevitable bludgeoning to his self-diginity. Unfortunately, he could still hear them.

"Alright, finally some loot! Do the honors, chief."

"Gladly!" Sounds of the satchel being cut open were punctuated by loud swooping sounds as the contents of the bag was dumped out. There was silence for a long moment.

"Uh, chief? Those're...aren't they..."

"They're women's clothing."

"Yep."

"Huh. Can't sell those."

"Hey, isn't that..."

"The hell?" This query was followed by silence. It was a silence so unnerving that Beowulf felt compelled to look up. His gaze was met with the disgusted glares of the bandits. That was preferable to the heap of clothing on the ground, Reis' undergarment daintily topping the colorful heap like whipped cream on a fruit scone.

The bandits glared at him for a moment longer before their leader said what was on all their minds: "Frigging perv. I hope the holy saint strikes you dead for your, your...whatever the fuck that is! C'mon boys, let's get outta here 'fore we get tainted or something." With mumbled agreements, the bandits stormed away, all righteous indignation.

Later, when Beowulf would have his first glimpse of the resurrected Saint Ajora, he would feel a lot better about this small incident in his life. But right now, he didn't have such a comfort. Instead, as he shuffled over to the bundle of clothes, one hollow thought made itself known through the mental noise.

_I should've fought them. I really, really should've fought them.  
_

-End-

In all his years of searching for Reis, Beowulf would've encountered many things that made him both heroic and...not. The title comes from a GameFAQs FFT board in-joke about having a class called the 'Panty Knight', complete with skillset. Well, it could be worse. Anyway, don't expect the last two stories until after September. Thanks for reading!


End file.
